Death Already Came and Got Me
by Calla Mae
Summary: Three times he saw her before he took her; twice she helped him, and once he saved her. How much of herself will she have to lose to survive? How much of her will he destroy? And what happens when he discovers he cares for her, how much would he be willing to give to keep her safe? And why exactly did Azog want to destroy the line Durin? Azog/OC
1. I can't, I can't stop crying

_I. You made yourself a bed/At the bottom of the blackest hole/And you'll sleep 'til May/And you'll say that you don't wanna see the sun anymore_

She was washing clothes by the river, humming as she rung the soap out before dipping them in the water again. She had taken up her mother's duties when she had fallen ill, and she inherited them when her mother died. It had also fallen on her to make sure her father got up and labored every day, or else he would lay in his cot and never see the sun again.

And so when he left to chop wood with the other men she grabbed their worn clothes and made for the river. It was there she heard it, the distant growl of a person in pain. At first she thought it a trick of her mind, until she heard it again.

He smelled her before he saw her, the faint scent of the flowered soap she used. His eyes found her as she came out from behind a tree, catching sight of her pretty youthful face.

It had taken her a great amount of courage to step out from the behind the tree when she saw the large pale orc – a great deal of stupidity, she would later think – but she saw the blood on his leg and heard his pain, and she membered her mother's moans of agony as she lay dying; so she moved toward him. She walked slowly with her hands raised, not a sound did she utter. She kept her eyes trained on his and continued inching closer; she had done the very same thing a week previous when she'd found a fawn caught in a trap, she stayed quiet and slow. No matter he growled and gave her orders in a cruel language she did not understand, she did not stop until she knelt a little ways from him with her hands still raised non-threateningly.

He had bared his teeth and snarled at her, growled and cursed at her swearing he would tear the heart from her chest should she not leave him be. But she still came, calmly and surely offering no threat he could see. It was not until she sat on her knees beside him that he saw her hands were shaking – she was scared, terrified even, he could smell it. But it did not stop her.

She took her eyes off his to look at his leg, taking note the blood came from beneath his loincloth. She looked up at him again, seeing he was watching her with wary curiosity, before she turned back to his leg and lifted the rubbery cloth to see the wound. She swallowed her nausea at seeing he was cut to the bone, blood oozing dark and thick out of it.

He watched her face closely, looking for any sign as to why she was showing him any amount of compassion – he didn't know whether to think her kind or a fool. She didn't gag or turn away, he could tell she was disgusted but she refused to show it – something that impressed him, for to him women were nothing more than loud screams, tears, sex, and worthless. And then she stood and left him.

He could hear her as she walked, the sounds of twigs snapping and of leaves crunching and of her skirt rustling; and what surprised him more than when she had first stepped from behind the tree, was that she came back.

She knelt beside him again and he watched as she spit something into her hand. He did not understand her words and so she said nothing, instead she placed the chewed leaves over the wound. She recoiled from him when he roared in pain, his eyes blazing and his teeth bared at her. Her chest heaved as she breathed, he could practically hear her heart pounding furiously from how he'd scared her. He clenched his jaw and sat back, glaring at her for the new pain in his leg, and watched as she continued. He smiled at how her hands shook, glad she feared him – she should. If he could walk on his leg he would take her, do what he pleased and then kill her. But he couldn't even stand on it, and so he was forced to let her put the leaves on his wound.

She chewed more Athelas leaves before pressing them onto his leg, looking up at him to see him straining not to growl. There was no doubt in her mind when his eyes met hers that if he had been able to he'd kill her; and she was left wondering, as she had the moment she stepped from behind the tree, why she was helping him. There was no answer, none other than he was a creature in agony and she had seen enough pain. When she had the gash covered she placed her hand over it and pressed down, and all the will in the world would not have kept him from growling when the water from the leaves soaked into his flesh. She kept her hand held firmly over his leg for a minute before she released him, and he was left breathing heavily with sweat shining on his stark white skin and his eyes trying to murder her.

He watched as she stood on shaky legs, looking at her dark blue eyes – noticing again her pretty face – and then as she moved to the other side of him. His eyes never left her as she moved to where his mace was, where he hadn't had the need to crawl toward yet. She surprised him yet again by pulling it to him, not strong enough to lift it, and bringing it to his side. He heard her breathing, which was heavier now that she had lugged his large mace, and she flicked a curl out of her face. He sat baffled as he stared at her; she had known he would not be able to leave soon, and so she had given him his weapon – trusting him enough not to use it on her. Her eyes met his a last time before she moved around him and walked back through the trees. He heard her skirts, leaves, twigs, her footsteps; this time as she moved away from him, he knew she was not coming back.

* * *

_So this is an idea I've been having for awhile about Azog - and she will be the mother of his son Bolg. This will be a dark story (very dark, with rape and sex and not entirely consensual at some points and a lot of psychological damage). However, it will also have some good parts. My idea is that this takes place well before the Hobbit, and that this story will explain why Azog wanted to destroy the line of Durin. The rating will change when more mature things start to happen, and I'll say a chapter in advance that I'll change the rating to M so you can look for it. So please tell me whether or not you're interested in reading more. Thank you for reading._


	2. everyday I'm so afraid, afraid of dying

_The words in bold will be when he speaks, cause I don't know any Orkish. So when you see bold, he's speaking his language. Thank you all so much for favoriting and following and reviewing, it all means so much to me.  
_

* * *

_II. there's definitely no logic/to human behaviour/but yet so irresistible/there is no map/to human behavior_

It had taken her an hour after she left him to stop her hands from shaking. She cursed herself and berated herself for being stupid enough to have helped the orc, as though he would have showed her the same kindness had he been the one to find her. She knew what he would have done, what he wanted to do; a young maiden in the forest, there was so much he would've done to her had he been able. And so she cursed herself, cleaning the blood from her dress and hands, willing him out of her mind. She did not notice that she thought of the orc as a he, a person, rather than it, a thing – a monster. If she had left the orc without helping him she would have slept restless and guilty, but when she laid her head down that night she fell into a peaceful slumber.

She convinced herself the next day that he would be fine, he was an orc – it would be a fool who went near him. A fool like herself. It was harder to convince herself that he would be well the day after, for the gash on his leg – which had taken both her hands to cover – would take a few days to heal even with the healing herb she'd put on it. And in all truth, new leaves needed to be chewed and his wound recovered. But still she did not go, she stayed in her and her father's home and busied herself; her father was work enough, it had been one of the days when he'd refused to get out of his bed - "you look just like her," her father had said, his hands on her face and a strange look in his eye.

So when she woke on the third day after she'd helped him she put on her cloak, grabbed a fishing net, and made for the river.

He smelled her before he heard her, though it was not her his ravenous nose smelled – it was the fish. He released his hold on his mace when he saw her pretty face, staring at the plate in her hand with desperate eyes; he had tried to stand many times the two days before but he did no more fall, and dragging his leg on the ground hurt worse for it tore the scabs open.

She had barely placed the plate in his lap before he grabbed a fish and began devouring it; it was revolting to watch him eat for he cared little to remove the bones. All she had done was cook the fish on a frying pan, thinking he would pick the flesh off but no, he ate all of it. She turned away with a wrinkled nose before making her way through the forest, looking for the leaves she'd found for him before.

He had finished the other fish when she returned and he sat watching as she knelt once more at his side and inspected his leg. Her hands were small, such tiny things he could easily break with his own. They were soft on his leg, and he growled slightly when her fingers pressed around the cut.

She looked up at him briefly before back at his leg, knowing peeling the dried leaves would hurt. She flinched when he let loose a stream of curses, growling in his deep voice as she picked the leaves out. Her heart nearly stopped at the feel of his large hand around her wrist, at feeling her bones shifting beneath her skin.

"**Leave it be," **he ordered her, feeling a fire spreading through his entire leg. She did not understand him.

"I have to put new ones on, you will heal faster," she told him, trying to pull her wrist from his grasp. He did not know what she said, nor did she get free.

And so they sat staring at each other, unable to say anything the other would understand. He released her wrist, seeing she did not like him touching her, and he watched her closely as her breathing calmed.

She wanted him gone, she did not want to come back to find him here the next day; and so she picked another scabbed-over leaf. He roared in outrage and made to grab her again.

"No," she said loudly stilling him. She looked at him, her heart hammering in her chest from how afraid she was, staring at him as he stared at her shocked.

That was a word he knew, one he could not believe she had just said to him. He stared at her with hard eyes, wanting nothing more than to rip her throat out with his teeth – but he didn't, she had helped him and given him food. So he sat leaning forward glaring at her, waiting for what she'd do next.

It did not cross her mind that he was an orc, that he was far larger than her and could hurt her with only one hand; none of that dawned on her when she resumed picking the leaves out – he was being stubborn and she was almost done, and her patience was wearing thin.

He snarled as he reached for her, planning to throw her against a tree, but he felt the slight sting of her hand on his as she slapped him. He sat back with wide eyes staring at her utterly shocked and appalled. He could not believe she'd struck him, that she'd had the nerve. He was stupefied, so much so that he hardly moved when she finished pulling the old leaves out; he did nothing more but lean against the tree and stare at her.

She wiped her hands on her skirt when she finished and looked up to see him watching her curiously. "You were being stubborn," she told him before she put some leaves in her mouth and began to chew.

It stung when she pressed them into the wound, which had healed greatly in the two days, but not as much as when she first put them on him. He did not know what she had just said, he did not speak Westros, but he liked the sound of her voice; it was not shrill as most women's were – though he'd only ever made women scream and cry – it was sweet and kind. And it was as pretty as her face, which was young and just as sweet.

She pressed the leaves into the wound, hearing him grunt in pain, and looked up at him. "You would have been able to leave today if I had done this yesterday," she told him softly, seeing in his eyes that he did know the words she spoke. She looked warily at his hand when he raised it, watching as he moved toward her, fear wrapped its tendrils around her heart as she waited for what he would do.

He took a stray curl, feeling her breast brush against his hand from how deep her breathing had become, and he raised the hair to his nose. Each human had their own scent; she smelled of flowers, but there was something underneath it that could only be described as her – he was not surprised it was a sweet smell. He leaned toward her, smelling the fear on her now, and pressed his nose against her chest. Her chest was nearly heaving from how short her breaths were, and felt her breasts soft against his neck as he moved his nose to her neck. He could nearly smell the life in her, young and viable, and he wanted her – a light growl, sounding more a purr, sounded in the back of his throat.

She was on her feet immediately and stepping back so he could not reach her. He chuckled darkly as he leaned back against the tree, now having her scent saved to memory.

"You can leave tomorrow," she told him, her voice shaky and her breathing coming in short pants. She looked to see he didn't understand and she sighed as she thought of how to tell him so he would. She looked around her. "The sun," she said pointing at him, waiting until he looked to where she was pointing and then back at her, "goes down," she lowered her hand in a motion of going down, "and then comes up," she raised her hand, "and you leave," she said making a shooing gesture.

He seemed to understand, as much as she thought he was going to; in all honesty she simply wanted to leave, she wanted him to leave too. She turned her back on him and made for the trees, but she stopped once and looked back at him.

He did not know her words but he could piece together her movements to know what she wanted. He watched as she shook her head, and then as she moved her hand as though she were beckoning him, and then she shook her head again. He listened as she walked back through the trees away from him, remembering her delicious smell, and he knew what she'd meant; "don't follow me."

In a week's time he would do just that without realizing it. And it would be her smell that led him to her, that saved her.


	3. but death already came and got me

_III. I've put my trust in you/Pushed as far as I can go/For all this/There's only one thing you should know/I tried so hard_

He woke the next morn to find that his leg had healed, leaving tender jagged flesh, and he grabbed his mace and left. It crossed his mind to follow her, to take her, but he did not know the size of her village nor did he have the strength to fight however many men were there. And so he left. It took him many days to return to his band of orcs, and it would have taken days longer had a scout not found him.

The orcs had thought him dead. Some tittered with excitement when he returned, others moved warily out of his way as he walked to the orc who had taken his place. Azog had walked up to him and stared down at the orc with hard eyes, and then crushed his head in his hands. And that settled it, Azog retook his place as their leader. And the first thing he did, a week after he had left his spot at the tree, was to pillage a place of men.

...

He smiled cruelly as he watched the people run, hearing their screams of terror. The men they slaughtered, the woman they raped then slaughtered. Azog had taken a woman, imaging it was the girl beneath him, though her screams had frustrated him for the girl wouldn't have screamed – at least not in his mind, she was perfectly willing. He'd slammed the woman's head against a rock before grabbing his mace and swung it at a child.

Houses were burning, people were screaming, the smell of blood was in the air; he laughed darkly as he passed a barn hearing a woman's screams and a few orcs laughing. He stopped when he smelled something, something he shouldn't have. He sniffed the air and looked down to see a small piece of blue fabric caught in a bush, and he brought it to his nose.

All mirth left him the moment he recognized the scent, and rage boiled in his blood when heard the shrill scream. It was so clear now that it was hers he didn't know how he had missed it before. And it was even clearer when he stepped into the barn, her smell was everywhere.

There were two orc kneeling beside her, laughing and sneering as they held her arms with one hand and squeezed and pinched her breasts with another. The third orc was between her legs, spreading them around him even though she tried to keep them closed. The sound of her sobs further ignited his rage.

"**Leave her,"** he ordered roughly, startling the three.

"**I found her, she's mine,"** the orc between her legs said – and it was true, a woman belonged to the orc who found her, and he may share her after he had finished with her. But Azog had found her days ago, or rather she had found him.

She had stopped crying, had stopped screaming; she'd stilled when she heard his voice and saw his pale face. Beyond all conscious thought, beyond all sanity, she knew he would not let them hurt her. She didn't understand any of what they said but she could hear and see the fury in the pale orc. And she was startled, not surprised, when he grabbed the orc kneeling over her and threw him against the wall breaking his neck.

The other two orcs released her immediately, staring up at Azog in fear. **"She is _mine_,"** he growled sending them scurrying away. He stared down at her, her dress pulled down exposing her breasts and her skirt pulled up to expose the rest of her. He wanted her, her soft flesh too alluring, her sweet pretty face staring up at him fearfully as she waited for what he would do.

She figured he would rape her, but she didn't know what he do after – the sounds of screams echoed all around her from people she knew. She had screamed when the orcs burst through the doors of her father's house, had screamed when they made her father swallow a sword, she had run as quickly as she could away and screamed when they caught her and threw her onto the ground of an old barn, and she had screamed and cried as they made to rape her. She didn't have any screams left, her throat was raw and her heart was heavy. So when he reached down grabbing her and yanked her to her feet she did nothing more than gasp surprised and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"**Cover yourself,"** he told her, his eyes struggling to leave her round breasts. He could tell from her furrowed brows she did not know what he'd said, he growled in frustration before grabbing the front of her dress and pulling it over her breasts. It fell back down exposing them once more, but she understood that he wanted her to fix her dress.

She pulled her arm through a sleeve and stilled when she felt his hand on her. Her breasts were sore from the way the two orcs had abused them, but his touch was soft. She felt her breathing deepen and the panic grow in her when he grabbed the skirt of her dress and pulled it to her hip. She let out a strangled "no," before backing away. He snarled as he reached for her again but she evaded him, and pulled her other arm through her sleeve completely covering herself.

He stared down at her heaving, wanting nothing more than to force her to the ground – but he couldn't, not when all he could think of when he looked at her was how she had helped him. And damn him if he didn't hate her for that. He growled darkly before grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly after him; he'd kill her, if he couldn't have her then he'd kill her.

When they stepped out of the barn they were confronted with the sight of four orcs holding a man in the air by his limbs, his screams growing louder the more they pulled. Azog looked down when he heard her gasp to see the horror on her face and the tears in her eyes, and he may have laughed if she hadn't covered her face with her hands and turned to him – her tears warm against his chest from where she pressed against him.

She was so small compared to him, tiny even, the top of her head barely reached his chest. Unsure what it was he felt as her body shook against him, he grabbed her arm and walked past the man. She did not turn around to see what caused his screams to abruptly stop, she didn't have to she knew he was dead. The further he took her the more destruction there was, more dead bodies or screaming women. She stared helplessly at many girls she had grown up with who were now being violated as they cried, wishing there was something she could do other than pass by them. But there was nothing, even she knew she was living on borrowed time – for though the pale orc had yet to turn on her, she knew it was coming and she was afraid.

He didn't feel her resisting until she saw the wargs, and then she stopped walking and dug her heels into the ground. It did nothing for her, he simply pulled on her; her strength was nothing to him, as though she were a child. He held her arm loosely as he spoke with an orc, telling him to prepare the others to leave. He looked down when she pressed against him, feeling her small hands holding onto him. Orcs were smiling at her cruelly, stepping closer to her. **"You will not touch her,"** he yelled making them recoil. He glared at the orcs around him, his eyes blazing, and he growled threateningly at them.

Her resistance was nothing more than an irritation and he eventually wrapped his around her and lifted her feet off the ground so she could do nothing. He mounted his warg, which was almost as dark as he was pale, and held her against his chest as he spurred it forward.

She had stopped fighting, there was no point her home was destroyed and her people dead. And even if she did escape his grasp she would not get far, and then he would kill her. What scared her more than anything was not knowing what he would do to her, how much pain he would inflict upon her – and so she stilled, not daring to object or scream or cry. It was not until she sat in front of him on the warg, a terrifying beast with wild eyes, that she let her tears fall silently; knowing there was no hope for her.

* * *

_So I'm straying into darker territory, but I don't think I'm to M yet. I think M will come with more sexual stuff, so I'll let you know when I make that change. Also two things; 1. this isn't the Azog we see in the movie, and in this story I'm going to explain why he's so awful and cruel in the hobbit. But even though he's not that bad, he's still not gonna be good. 2. At this point in time he doesn't have his white warg, and I will bring the white warg up later (actually possibly soon), but it is coming. Thank you all again for the reviews and the follows and favorites. You guys really do make my day, so thanks. _


	4. cause I'm not living

_Guest: thank you very much, I'm glad you like it._

_P.S.: yeah this one is very gloomy. But thank you for still trying._

* * *

_IV. where are my angels/where's my golden one/and where is my hope now that my heroes have gone?/Some are being beaten/some are being born/and some can't tell the difference anymore_

The orcs had a camp, a small one without much shelter that they moved constantly. There was only one tent, and even before Azog pulled her off of the warg she knew it was his; she knew from the way the orcs watched him with awe and fear that he was their leader. Azog threw her into the tent and she landed face first on an animal hide.

He lowered himself to his knees, placing one on either side of her hips, and smiled as she started struggling. They did nothing for her, he placed a hand on her back and held her down as he began pulling up her dress. Her no's had been nothing to him, but he stilled when he heard her strangled scream. He was already hard, needing to have her, but he didn't like the sound of her cries – they were loud and broken and they made her entire body shake with each sob. Every instinct in him told him to take her anyways, tears and screams had never matter before – he enjoyed them – but there was one instinct that remembered her small hands on his leg and her gentle words.

He stared down at her seeing her shoulders shake, breathing heavily as he grew angrier. He wanted her, with her small hands and kind voice and pretty face – he wanted _her_. And he couldn't force her, because she'd healed him and fed him. And he hated her for it, for having something to hold over him – it gave her power, one she had no idea she had. She flinched and curled up as much as she could when he roared over her, slamming his hands on the ground beside her head. And then he was gone, leaving her curled in a ball with her dressed pulled up and painful sobs wracking through her.

Azog had such a dark look on his already terrifying face that when he looked at an orc who had taken a woman he immediately gave her to Azog. The woman screamed as Azog took her like a bitch, and he enjoyed the sound, it spurred him on.

She could hear the woman screaming, could hear a deep guttural growl that she knew was his. Guilt burned through her, he didn't rape her so he was hurting another. She didn't know what to do, he was hurting someone else because she had refused – and she couldn't even feel relief at being spared that pain, not when she had given it to some other poor girl.

She had stopped weeping when he returned, but tears still fell silently every now and again. His eyes were dark and heavy as he glared at her, seeing she was sitting with her knees held to her chest.

"**Go to sleep,"** he ordered, his voice a menacing growl. He snarled when she did nothing, not understanding him, and he pushed her to the ground.

She lost her breath from how hard he'd shoved her, and she laid curled on her side with her knees still held to her chest unmoving. He cast a last dark look at her before laying down with his back to her, wanting nothing more than to hurt her for daring to refuse him. A few times he had gotten it in his head to give her to the other orcs, they would do with her what they will; and a pretty young woman like herself they would all want her. But he would turn to her and see her dark blue eyes watching him, and he'd roll away from her more angry than before – because he knew he wouldn't give her away, she was his.

He knew the moment he looked at her after he woke she hadn't slept, and he all but had to put food in her mouth himself to get her to eat. He didn't know what to do with her, so he left her in the tent; he wasn't surprised to find her still there when he came back that night, she was too smart to think she could escape. He tried to lay with her again, attempting gentleness though his hands were much too strong and she was much too small so that when he pushed her to the ground he knocked the breath out of her again.

He charged out of the tent, his eyes blazing and a snarl on his mouth, and he grabbed the first woman he saw and fucked her til she bled. And even then he was not satisfied, if anything when he returned to the tent he was more enraged than when he'd left.

"**How dare you refuse me,"** he bellowed at her. **"I saved you, we are even. You're mine, do you understand that?"**

She stared at him with wide eyes, her breathing coming in short pants and her body shaking as he yelled at her. She didn't know what he was saying, only that he was angry – his eyes were murderous as they glared at her. He threw her to the ground and climbed on top of her, stilling her wiggling body with his own as he sat on her waist. She tried to push his arms away when he reached for the front of her dress, but her strength was nothing compared to his. He pulled her dress down, tearing the back of it slightly, to reveal her breasts; she tried to get his hands off her, rough hands that squeezed too hard for her sensitive skin.

"Please," she begged, stilling him.

He looked down at her knowing that word, seeing from the way she clenched her jaw she was trying not to cry. "Please," she said softly again. He stared down hard at her, his hands still on her breasts, and then he stood and left her there as tears slipped into her hair.

He did not come back until the next night. She confused him and frustrated him; something churned in his stomach when he saw her cry, when he heard her choked voice as she begged him no. He didn't understand, no other woman's begging effected him – if anything it made his dick hard. So he did not know why hers made him uncomfortable, why he couldn't find the pleasure in hearing her pleads or her screams.

And so when he tried to take her again and she said please, asking him to stop, he did; and she had never seen him more livid than he was then. She didn't have time to even gasp before he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the tent. She looked around her at the orcs who were gazing her longingly, she had staid out of their sight for three days and forgotten how horrifying they were, and they had forgotten how lovely she was.

"**Who speaks her tongue!"** he yelled to them all, scaring her with the intensity in his loud voice. He waited until an orc stepped forward saying he did. **"Ask her why she refuses,"** he ordered, holding her arm tight in his large hand.

She looked at the orc in shock when she realized he had spoken Westron. She looked up at the pale orc seeing him waiting impatiently and she turned back to the smaller orc. "I," she stuttered looking around her at all the orcs watching her. "I've never been with a man."

The orcs laughed when that was translated, wanting her all the more now. A low growl from Azog and they all fell silent. **"You don't have a choice,"** he told her darkly.

The orc translated for her, "he said," the orc added with a kinder voice after Azog turned dark eyes on him.

She looked up at the pale orc not know what she was supposed to say, what she could say. She knew he would not take kindly to her saying she did not want to lie with him, saying that might even get her killed. What she did not know is why he hadn't forced himself on her yet, why he left when she said no or when she cried; but she didn't dare ask him. Instead she looked up at his angry eyes and shook her head.

He turned fully to her, crouching to get in her face as he yelled. She did not understand his words but she knew from the fire in his eyes they were a threat, and she flinched every time he moved thinking he would strike her. Excitement swarmed through the orcs at something he said, and she turned to the orc to translate after he'd finished.

The orc looked at her without pity, a gleam in his eye as he gave her Azog's cruel words. "He said you have no choice, if he wants to fuck you then you get down on your knees and let him." She looked at the orc with wide horrified eyes as he continued. "And then when he's through with you he'll throw you to us so we can all have a turn fucking you."

Azog did not smile, or sneer, when she looked up at him; he stared down at her with hard eyes. There were tears in her eyes, those he expected, but he did not expect to see the hurt. Her voice was small and broken and he did not understand the few words she spoke. He turned with furrowed brows to the orc.

"**You would let them hurt me? She said,"** the orc translated, showing his own startled confusion at her words.

Azog turned back to her surprised, to see her chin quivering. So shocked was he at learning she had been trusting him to keep her safe from the others, that she pulled her arm from his grasp and went back to the tent. He did not know what the burning feeling in him was as he watched her go, as he remembered her pained voice and her hurt eyes – he did not know he felt ashamed. It only grew when he entered the tent to find her on her side and her shoulders shaking.

She had foolishly allowed herself the thought that he would not let the others hurt her, had told herself she could survive if it was only him who touched her. But she didn't know how to survive now, she didn't know how she was supposed to keep living.

She flinched when he touched her arm, and he was left with that burning feeling making him sick. "No," he told her.

It took her a moment before she realized what he said, and she turned to him baffled. He looked at her red eyes and the tears on her face. "No," he said again before turning away from her.

She stared at him long after he fell asleep, her tears having ceased, and instead surprise filled their place – and a small piece of hope bloomed that she may survive this yet, though she tried to crush it. She understood what he'd meant; he wouldn't let them hurt her.

* * *

_the song is Amen by Jewel._

_So I'm not entirely sure how well I'm doing Azog. I'm trying to keep him as rough as he's supposed to be, but that he's having a problem just raping her cause she saved him. And I'm also trying to show he's not at all happy that she has that over him, he can't stand it - and he can't stand how confused he is about why he can't just rape her. So I'm thinking I'm gonna change it to M next chapter, since he is almost raping her and the language has gotten pretty bad - and I'm getting close to actual sexual things. So look for the new chapter under a M rating. Thank you very much for reading._


	5. I'm not living anyway

_V. Sickened in the sun/You dare tell me you love me/But you held me down and screamed you wanted me to die/Honey you know, you know I'd never hurt you that way/You're just so pretty in your pain_

Days passed and he continued trying to lay with her, and she continued to refuse. Her no's grew firmer, her tears eventually dried; but she was empty. She listened every night as Azog stormed out of the tent, a dark curse on his lips, and then his grunts and growls of desire as he raped some poor girl. Relief never found her, ease never settled, not when those deep guttural groans should be heard over her, not when it should be her that screamed.

The more days passed the more he wore her down – she no longer cared if he touched her, and touched her he did. He came to enjoy her breasts, for other than her face and hair it was all she allowed, and after many times of her pulling on his wrists he learned how tight he could hold her without hurting her. And he learned so long as he did not hurt her she would let him touch her.

But she was different, not so afraid, not so sad – what he did not know was that she'd stopped caring; caring she now lived with orcs, caring when his hands were on her, caring that he tried to and eventually would take her, caring that her heart continued to beat – she was empty.

…

She walked close behind him when they passed through the many orcs, and she saw the few women the orcs had taken with their bruised uncovered skin and their dead eyes – she didn't like them the most.

"**She is mine,"** he barked gruffly at the orcs who still drew near with a smile when they saw her, as he pulled her along. They passed through the orc camp and moved into the trees, and from the way her eyes roamed he knew she was afraid of what he'd do. He was tired of her being afraid, he had made it very clear he would not hurt her nor would he force himself on her – she should be grateful, and it angered him that she wasn't. He released her when they reached the river bank and he stepped back motioning for her to go in.

She looked at the river, realizing then how much she wished to bathe, and then back at Azog. "Turn around," she said softly, unwilling to undress in front of him. She sighed when he looked at her blankly and she motioned it with her hands. He gave her a hard look before complying and he walked a little ways back through the trees. He stopped and sat so he could still hear her, hear if she tried to run – and he forced himself to stay when he heard her in the water, knowing she was unclothed.

It was cold, but it was clean and so she did not mind; she cleaned her hair, she cleaned her body. She sat, the water almost to her breasts, and a thought entered her mind when she leaned her head back to wet her hair again; _I can make this all end._ She looked at the water, which was so alluring and enticing, that she laid back and held herself under. It was not long before her chest burned, and then she tried to breathe – but she did not move. As she stared at the sky above her, swirling with the current of the river, she found peace.

It took Azog several moments to realize he could not hear her, and he stood and walked through the trees and stopped short when he did not see her. Her dress on the bank stilled him, for she would not have run without it, and he instead turned to the river. It was her dark hair he saw first, and then her body. He pulled her out of the water and watched as water poured out of her mouth, but she did not move; she did nothing more than blink slowly at him. Her nakedness did nothing for him, the feel of her nude body against his chest as he carried her aroused him not in the slightest. He did not growl or yell at the orcs as they looked at her greedily, he barely cast them a second look. He made for his tent and laid down first her dress and then her. He did not know that what he'd felt when he could not find her was fear, he did not know what he felt at finding her alive was relief.

It was not until he stood over her looking down at her naked body, which was lovely with her smooth sun kissed skin and her round breasts, that he felt any sort of desire. And it mixed with his anger at her causing him turn her on her belly and settle over her waist. She did not say no, she did not push him away with her hands or her cries; she did not move. He sat with her unresisting beneath him, half hardened, and desire fleeing; he could find nothing pleasurable in this, in her complete and utter stillness.

She did not move when he got off her, she laid on her belly and blinked. This was not the girl who had selflessly helped him when he had been wounded, this was not the girl who had returned three days later with food. There had been a light in her eyes, the smell of life on her skin; there was none of that now. He did not like this girl. And so he left the tent, and even then she did not move.

He returned when night fell and put her back in her dress; he had let his hands roam over the expanse of her skin – touching her breasts, her sides, her legs, her hips – but he didn't feel even the smallest twitches of desire. If he were to be honest with himself he wanted her willing, he wanted her small hands on him – but he wasn't honest with himself, for he was an orc and she would never want the same.

…

He hid his longing and worry for her behind a cloud of anger, hid it even from himself. The orcs were terrified of his dark mood, for he had killed three of them already for doing no more than breathing near him. Days she had laid in the tent unmoving, not eating, getting the orc to translate did not make her speak. Nothing did anything for her, she had found peace only for it to be taken away – and she could no longer go on.

She blinked startled when he dropped a tiny ball of white fur by her face, and she sat up surprised when she saw it was a warg pup. Azog's eyes were hard and searching when she looked up at him, secretly glad she was moving, and he nodded to the pup. It was the runt of the litter that one of their bitches had birthed, normally they killed them for they always died anyway. She looked back down at the small creature and when she looked back to the pale orc he was gone.

It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen; it's jaw was bigger than it's head, it looked like it had a hump where it's neck was, and it's eyes weren't even open. But it whimpered and scooted on shaky, discoordinated, legs seeking her warmth and it crawled its way into her heart. Her caring nature butt heads with her dispair and she gathered the pup in her hand and laid down with it held against her chest. A smile twitched on her mouth when she felt it's tongue on her chin, and tears gathered in her eyes as feelings she had been numb to for the past few days finally settled around her once more.

Azog found her hours after night fell lying on her back asleep and the warg burrowed in her dress between her breasts. As glad as he was to see whatever dark cloud had been smothering was gone, it changed nothing; she still was not willing, and he still wanted her.

She focused her thoughts and energy on caring for the warg, though it proved difficult for she had nothing to feed it. She found the orc who spoke her tongue, who's name was Yazneg, and he led her to the warg that just had the litter. He smiled behind her as she moved forward, hoping the warg would turn on her and bite her. And he nearly laughed when the warg growled menacingly at her. Azog saw her leave the tent and he followed her with his eyes, and moved when he saw her by the warg.

She took a deep breath as she held her little pup out to its mother, who sniffed it curiously before settling back down – though it watched her closely. She put the little white warg by one of the teats but it did not drink, it did nothing but squirm and when she set the warg down it crawled back to her. "Do you have a bowl?" she asked Yazneg, who was staring at her disdainfully – seeing she would not be hurt.

He almost sneered at her, hating the young woman for daring to act as though she could demand things.

"**What did she say?"**

Both she and Yazneg turned to see Azog standing behind her, having come to ensure the warg wouldn't hurt her.

"**Get it for her," **Azog ordered when the orc translated. Azog turned back her and stared hard at her, seeing the runt nestling against her chest as she held it.

The look in Yazneg's eyes was dark and hateful when he handed her the wooden bowl, one that had been pilfered from a village they'd raided along with other various things. The warg did not like it when she began milking her, she hadn't thought the warg would, but it did not try to bite her.

She took her pup and her bowl of milk and retreated back to the tent, and curious Azog followed her. He watched as she wet her finger and let the pup lick it, it took an hour for her to finish but she was satisfied when she did. She looked up at Azog and he saw the small light in her eyes, this was the woman who had helped him; and more than he wanted anything, he wanted her then.

He took the pup from her hand and put it aside before laying her down and settling on top of her. "No," she said firmly pushing against his chest. He couldn't take a no, he held her wrists to the ground and turned her over. He did not know any of the words she said besides no, and please, but they mattered little; it had been days since he'd taken a woman, and over a week he had wanted her. The tension left her and she laid still beneath him and he growled in anger, he wanted her unwilling – if he could not have her willing, he wanted her struggling. But she had stopped moving again and he couldn't take her like that. He got off of her, shoving her away from him as he left.

She heaved a sigh of relief after he'd left, praying if she laid unmoving he wouldn't want her again; it had worked before, and she was pleased beyond all words that it had worked again. At least until she heard the woman scream; the screams and cries matched his growls and she knew it was because he was hurting the woman, something she could not find relief in.

She couldn't keep saying no, she couldn't keep refusing him – not when the pain that should have been hers was being given to someone else. He was livid when he returned, and it only grew when he saw the warg in her arms. He had given her the pup, he had shown her kindness and still she refused; he hated her more strongly than he ever had. But he did nothing more than lay on his side turned away from her.

He did not try to have her the next night, he entered the tent after he'd already taken a woman; and he could see in her eyes she knew he had. But he hadn't really enjoyed it, she lived behind his eyes and he imagined it was her he was inside – but then the woman cried out and he lost the image. He was finding it harder and harder to enjoy a woman that wasn't her, and it made his blood boil with rage and hatred. So that when he tried to lay with her again and she said no he'd honestly thought of killing her, but he didn't, he didn't even hurt her. He pushed himself off her and turned to leave the tent, but he was stilled by her hand on his arm.

She didn't know what he would think she meant when she grabbed him, and she could see the confusion and surprise in his eyes as he looked down at her. "No," she said for it was one of the few words he knew. She patted the space beside her hoping he would understand that she did not want him to go rape another girl. "Please," she said softly.

He complied, still confused, though he knew she did not want him lying with another woman; what he did not know was why. He wasn't hurting her, he was finding a release without forcing himself on her so she should be happy; but he could see she wasn't. And neither was he, for he hadn't found a release that night, instead he lay stiff and in need lying beside her as she'd asked; but if she did not want him fucking another woman than she couldn't keep saying no. And it was something she knew all too well.

* * *

_Song is from The Last Song I'm Wasting on You by Evanescence. _

_Guest: thank you so much, I can't to get to their relationship development. But I think it's coming, and I think he's slowly proving to care about her._


	6. and who am I supposed to be

_VI. Don't let your heart grow cold/I'll call you by name/ I will share your road_

When he returned to the tent at night he most always found her asleep, and most always her white warg was nestled between her breasts beneath her dress; sleeping against the warm sound of her heartbeat. Seeing her laying on her back, her head turned to turned to the side, he could not wake her to lie with him. Her sweet face, with her strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, lips full and pinkened; she was beautiful. He once stroked her cheek but the sight of his hand, which was pale and scared and his nails long and dirty where her skin was nothing short of lovely, and he pulled away.

His desire was unhindered, if anything it had grown and only for her it seemed. Watching her care for her tiny runt, who's eyes were now open and was feeding itself, he craved her in a way that sickened him for it showed he was weak – that he had a weakness, and it lay in her. Many a time he got it in his head to kill her, for he wouldn't give her to the others, to crush her and whatever she did to him before it became too late. But he would either see her sleeping face, which was so peaceful he could do nothing more than sit and stare at her beauty yearning for her, or she would beckon him to her side to see something the warg had done. Thought of her death fled him the moment he looked upon her face, her sweet beautiful face that not once looked upon him as though he were a monster – at least not yet.

None of that kept him from trying to lay with her, his attempts grew more frequent. She saw more of him in those moments than she had the entire time he'd had her, for he showed his anger and his need, and he looked at her with pleading eyes for a moment before rage masked it. It took days upon days, turning into weeks, for her to understand that he did not want to rape her – the reason why he let her refuse him, why he left her to rape another. And it took her days more to understand that he did not just want sex, he wanted to lie with _her_.

And anger coursed through him when she refused, and she saw for the smallest of seconds for only a spare few times that her refusal hurt him. Her hand on his arm, her please, did not always keep him at her side; and she was forced to listen to a poor woman's tears or screams as he raped her, and she knew from the sound of the pain laced in the cries that he was purposefully hurting the woman. And for that she felt guilt, for she was not strong enough to take the pain that was hers, and instead gave it to another.

Resistance grew lesser though she still always said no, she did not know how she was supposed to tell him she was afraid he would hurt her – even if he did not mean to, gentleness was foreign to him. She was afraid, and he was very lustful, and it became a struggle to get him to stay – more dangerous to refuse him finding relief in another woman – so what was she to do.

Yazneg translated for them both often, for they had no other way of speaking; it was in those times she surprised both Yazneg and Azog the greatest for there were days when she simply told Yazneg to ask him how his day was. And then she waited to hear what he said, always listening carefully, as though she cared. It was on those nights his need was greatest.

…

"No," she said pulling his hand from her leg, hearing his growl as he continued. "I said no," she told him firmer, pushing him away. With a growl he grabbed her hands and pinned her to the ground staring down at her wide eyes as he heaved. She could see the pleading in his eyes, could feel him pressed against her hip trying to find release, but she was afraid; he was so much larger than her, and she was so small.

"No," she told him when he made to leave, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back. With a growl he batted her hand away and marched out of the tent. The screams would be horrible, she knew, for she had not just refused him but she had seen his need and still said no; and he was enraged, so he would hurt whichever woman he found first. But the screams did not come, instead she heard his heavy feet walking back and Yazneg stumbled into the tent from how Azog threw him.

She waited worriedly for Yazneg to translate his angry words. "He says you can't refuse him if you won't let him fuck anyone else."

She searched desperately for something to say, anything, though nothing came. Azog turned to the orc when he saw that. "You can't keep saying no," Yazneg translated.

She watched Yazneg turn to the pale orc in shock, but he was staring intently at her face. "What did he say?" she asked.

Yazneg turned to her. "He needs you."

She looked at him shocked, not believing he could say such a thing; but his pale eyes were hard and desperate all the same and she knew he had. "You should leave," she told Yazneg softly. He glared at her before he turned but her soft "thank you," made his hatred of her harder to bear; she truly was kind hearted, even in the face of horror such as orcs, and her kindness quickly wore on him and he found hating her becoming harder.

She wasn't ready, Azog could see she wasn't and he nearly hissed in frustration. He pushed her to the ground and straddled her waist. "No," she told him. "No, I don't want."

He silenced all other words from her, words he did not know, with his hand over her mouth. Her pup whined and gave a broken bark at seeing her, her mother, struggling beneath him. Her legs continued to twist trying to get free from the weight of his hips, but she was far weaker than him. But she stilled when she felt him thrust against her, breathing heavily as he pleased himself against her hip. His eyes were closed as he moved, grunts leaving him as well as growls, and she watched pleasure flicking across his pale scarred face. Several long minutes he moved above her, spreading her legs around him to thrust between them, nearly roaring at the feeling of being so close her. No sound did she utter when he took his hand from her mouth, she did not refuse him this – she watched his brow knit together and a loud growl erupted from his throat as he found his release, and he rolled off of her.

After a few moments she turned to see him lying on his back as he breathed deeply, his eyes staring at the top of the tent not knowing what he was thinking. "What is your name?" she asked him softly after several minutes of silence. He looked over at her with questioning eyes and she thought of how to make him understand. She sat up and pointed to herself. "Calla," she said slowly. He sat up and stared at her with intent startlement so she pointed to herself again; "Calla," she said again.

"Calla," he repeated, tasting her name on his tongue.

She nodded smiling softly, and then put her hand on his chest and waited. He looked down at her hand and then at her, he was reluctant and uncomfortable, and he did not know why she effected him this way. "Azog," he said at last, looking at her briefly before laying on his side turned away from her.

It was short with hard harsh sounds, it suited him. "Azog," she said softly as she laid back down, gathering her warg in her arms as she nestled closer. She fell asleep dreaming of warmth – which came from her having moved closer to him as she slept – and of him thrusting between her legs – which came from her own inner desires, that were a secret even to herself.

* * *

_My reason for naming her Calla is because I wanted something short and I wanted it to start with that hard c sound; cause I wanted to be natural for an orc to say. And I also needed it to fit into Middle Earth names, and since the people of Bree-land often named their children after things, such as flowers, I figured Calla would be plausible. And though it's not my real name I think it's very pretty.  
_

_Guest: thank you, I'm glad you're liking it. I guess your question was answered, her name is Calla. I was waiting for the first time her name is given for when she gave it to Azog. _

_PS: Her resolve melts even more next chapter. And I'm very glad to hear that you still plan on reading._


	7. everybody seems to see except for me

_VII. If I was not myself/and you were someone else/I'd say much to you/ and I would tell the truth/Cause I can hardly breathe/when your hands let go of me_

For the time being Azog was content to thrust against her, only imaging the feel of being inside her. She lay on her back and he laid between her legs, holding her hips as his body jerked never fully satisfied without the feel of her surrounding him. But it was all she was ready for, and she did not fight him or tell him no; she laid submissively beneath him and let him spread her legs as wide as he desired as he satiated his hunger.

And she watched his face, taking in every passing looking of pleasure that painted his features, listening to every groan and grunt and once even a purr that escaped the back of his throat. He'd once met her eye as he moved against her, and it had taken every ounce of his restraint not to turn her on her belly and take her; there was a spark of desire in her eyes, he didn't think she knew – at least not yet, for she was still young, and desire was new to her.

He no longer let her bathe in the river out of his sight, not willing to take the chance of her slipping beneath the water's surface never to come up for air. More often than not the lure of her unclothed body was too much for him, and she laid on the bank as he thrust against her with nothing more than his loincloth keeping him from entering her and it drove him mad. In these moments he held himself up so he could watch the way her breasts bounced from the movement of his hips, and every time his eyes trailed to hers she was always looking at him. She was not so stiff, not so still; he could feel her legs tighten around his waist from where he placed them, her eyes were warmer. And once he felt her shudder, her back arched and her eyes closed.

The times by the river were wearing on her, for he pressed so close against her almost penetrating. And her breasts bounced heavily as his thrusts moved her body. She did not notice it the first time, or the second or even the third. It was days turned into weeks of feeling him against her before she realized the way her entire body buzzed as though bees were trapped under her skin, was because she enjoyed it. A sharp ache throbbed between her legs, her skin prickled each time his hardened flesh rubbed against her. Once he finished, whether by the river or in the tent, she turned away so he would not see her tears. Shame scorched her soul, guilt flayed her alive; she was a whore existing only for the whims of a good fuck. She hated herself, loathed the wants of her body; and yet blame never fell on Azog, her finger only pointed at her.

On her back she lay, her legs around his waist, his hips moving against hers; a heat spread through her, one that had her gasping as her skin crawled. She grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin, and her back arched; her eyes closed tight. She shoved him off her when she realized what'd she'd done, and so taken by surprise was he that she took him off balance. Her hips had raised seeking him out, pushing harder against him to fulfill the swelling need growing in her.

He sat on his knees as he looked at her, seeing her shoulders shake as she cried; unbelief that he had felt her meet his thrust.

"No," she told him, her voice cracking from her tears, when he grabbed her and laid her back down. "Please, I can't. I can't."

He did not understand those words, but desire was nothing new to him; he understood that clearly. And so he shushed her, wiping a tear that leaked from her eyes. "No," he said firmly, silencing her. He pulled her legs apart and settled between them once more, placing a hand on either side of her. "No Calla," he said again at seeing her chin quiver. She turned her head away and pressed her mouth against his wrist, closing her eyes. He knew desire, he knew it more than a young woman who had never kissed a man let alone been pleased by one. And so he moved his hips against hers, pressing hard against her and feeling the twitch in her leg's muscles around him. Only a minute it took of rubbing against her, her nails piercing his arm, her breaths coming in short pants. Her moan was muffled behind his wrists and her closed mouth, but he felt her body shake as she swam in the current of ecstasy – and even then he struggled to believe it, for he was an orc and there was no reason to believe she would find anything about him the least bit desirable.

His own need was great, for watching her as she came had ignited a fire in his blood, but he was still as her body continued to shake. One look at her face showed she was crying, and her sobs were so broken and hopeless that he could not finish. She wouldn't let him touch her, she cried and pushed him away nearly screaming when he tried; and so he handed her her dress and walked away from her, not knowing what he felt. He was angry, furious and hateful, though only because he was hurt. She did not desire him, the proof was in her tears. Azog never let himself imagine that the reason for her crying was because she _did_ desire him, though it was the truth – and she abhorred herself for it.

In the days that followed he did not try to touch her, he knew she would not let him; he rarely went to the tent to see her for it did nothing but hurt him to see the guarded way she now looked at him – and that induced murderous thoughts, ones he honestly contemplated though did not act on. He ordered Yazneg to see to her, to insure she ate and was taken to the river to bathe as he knew she liked to do.

The few times he did go to the tent he would see her and he'd force her down, not caring if she were willing or not; until he heard her tears. Then he would growl and shove her aside as he left the tent to fuck some other woman. This continued for weeks until his patience, which was already slight and all but nonexistent, had completely worn away. He found the two at the river, Yazneg sitting on a rock with his back to her and her in her dress with wet hair.

Yazneg stood the moment he saw Azog, for Azog had been in a black mood for weeks – Yazneg knew it was because of the girl, it was always because of the girl. She would be the death of them, and his hatred to her morphed into loathing and he greatly wished Azog would rape her and do away with it all.

Azog marched toward her and stopped inches from her staring down into her surprised face. **"You are mine,"** he told her gruffly, his eyes burning with rage.

Yazneg nearly tittered as he moved closer, turning his own vengeful eyes on her as he translated what Azog said next. "You cannot continue to refuse him," Yazneg said.

Calla looked at Azog with wide eyes and a set jaw, and she shook her head. Azog sighed, sounding more a growl. **"I gave you your warg. I have been sheltering you, and feeding you and keeping you safe. Why do you say no?"** he demanded. He waited as Yazneg told her what he'd said, his eyes never leaving her face. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out and all caring left him. **"Get on your knees."**

Yazneg sneered at her. "Get on your knees."

She turned to Azog with wide eyes. "No," she told him firmly, though inside she was quivering for she did not fully believe he would not rape her any longer. Azog bared his teeth at her before saying something through a clenched jaw.

"Get on your knees or he will go to a woman and fuck her in front you," Yazneg told her.

She did not doubt him, not with the fury that was in his cold eyes. And still she shook her head. He grabbed her arm and she slammed her hand on his chest. "No!" she cried stilling him.

Yazneg stared at the girl in utter shock. No one refused Azog, no one that lived anyway, and yet the girl refused and still drew breath; not only that but she struck Azog and still he did nothing against her. Yazneg was baffled, perhaps even awed if spite did not swell in him at her freedom to tell the pale orc no.

"**Why?"** Azog asked, staring down at her with hard eyes.

Calla stared up at him, hearing Yazneg's translation, realizing she would have to give an answer. "I am afraid you will hurt me," she said, her voice small and meek.

Yazneg looked to Azog, wheels turning in his mind for he realized something; he could make this all end now, put Azog in a mood to rape her while teaching the whore her place.

She knew the moment Azog turned to Yazneg in shock after he translated that something was wrong. She cried out more in surprise at his hand on her cheek and her body in the air, than she did in pain. She did not feel pain until she slammed into the ground, her cheek was on fire and cold all at the same time and she had trouble seeing straight.

Yazneg stood back and watched with glee as she was thrown off her feet, and then as Azog sat on her waist. It was not until Azog held a rock above his head that Yazneg realized he had made a mistake in what he'd said; as much of an orc as he was, as awful and cruel and vicious as he was, her kindness had worn him down to where he did not entirely wish her dead. **"Wait," **he cried before Azog could bring the rock down on her head. Azog turned to him and Yazneg nearly shrunk back from the pure rage in his eyes. **"I may have mistranslated,"** he said timidly, watching Azog's resolve wain slightly. **"Shall I ask her to repeat herself?"** He waited until Azog nodded before he stepped forward, and he looked down at her wide tear filled eyes as she lay heaving and shaking beneath the large orc. "What was it you said?"

Calla looked up at him confused, finding it hard to breathe for how heavy her fear was. And then she understood. "You lied."

Azog did not understand her words but he knew they were not the ones she had said before. He looked from her to Yazneg, betrayal was in her eyes and there was a sliver of guilt in his. And then Azog knew what had happened. With a roar he lunged for the orc, grabbing him around the throat and throwing him against a tree. **"What did she say?"** he thundered, his voice a resonance of fury. Yazneg nearly whimpered in terror as Azog descended upon him once more, wrapping his large hand around his throat and squeezing. **"What did she say?"**

Yazneg sucked in air when Azog loosened his grip for him to answer. He should have let her die, Azog would have never known. **"She was afraid you would hurt her." **

Calla sat on the ground staring at the two, not understanding their words. Azog looked at her after Yazneg spoke, and his eyes were filled with not only shock but also guilt. She gasped when Azog hit Yazneg's head against a rock and then threw him. Yazneg was launched in the air when Azog's foot connected with his side, and he cried out in pain. "No," Calla said standing, her head ringing and her balance shifted.

Azog either didn't hear her or didn't care, he grabbed Yazneg by the throat and lifted him high in the air; watching as his legs kicked uselessly and his eyes bulged – almost smiling as he watched the life leaving the orc's eyes. "Azog." He turned without lowering the suffocating orc to see Calla at his side, her cheek already bruising. "No," she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. Her touched softened him, if only slightly, and he let Yazneg fall to the ground with a thump and a cough.

She stared up at him seeing the guilt and shame in his eyes as he raised a hand to her cheek; he had never been so gentle, his fingers were but a butterfy's kiss upon her skin. She watched as he walked away, wishing she could say something. Instead she turned to Yazneg who was holding his neck and gasping. "What did you tell him?" she asked, for he was the only one who spoke her tongue – therefore he could not die.

He looked up at her, it not being lost on him that she had save him. "I said you did not wish to lie with him."

And there it was. Again she was forced to come face to face with the fact that Azog did not just wish to lie with her, he wished for her to want it too.

"Was I lying?" Yazneg demanded with all his wounded pride, knowing she didn't. "Do you wish to lie with him?" So sure was he that the answer was simply no, that he was shocked senseless when she answered; "I don't know." For she had given him her answer, one she had yet to admit to herself for it was too much bear. Yes, she did.

* * *

The song is Dead In the Water by Ellie Goulding.

I'm not sure if I ever said how old she was, but at the moment she's only 16 or 17 so she's still really young. And hasn't experienced lust, so she's a little innocent to that. I wasn't sure how well I captured that.

PS: she is melting really hard, and will only melt more. I don't think it's fully Stockholm, because she's not misinterpreting his not hurting her as kindness. I mean his feelings are genuine, though he hasn't quite figured out what he feels or at least he's not admitting it. I think her "feelings" are heavily influenced by her situation but I don't think it's fully Stockholm (it is a little bit though) And yeah you did say he about Azog, you're seeing him as more of a person now huh? :)


	8. who cares anyway, cause when it's over

_VIII. keep me safe inside/your arms like towers/tower over me/cause we are broken_

Black, the color of her cheek. Red, the color of his guilt. Several times he had thought of striking her, of killing her or raping her, but never had he done it. He'd hit her, hard enough her body had twisted in the air and slammed back onto the ground – he could still hear her scream. Behind his eyes was painted the image of her terrified face as he held a rock over his head to crush hers, of her tears. He had almost killed her, had Yazneg not stopped him he would have. Azog could barely look at her, seeing her bruised skin nearly made him sick and he would bow his head and turn away.

He did not touch her, his hands could do nothing but hurt her, had already hurt her. And though his desire for her had not changed, he found no release. Not with her, and he realized then that no other woman compared; he did not want screams, he did not want their pain or the quick release he could find. He wanted her, and unbelievable to him he wanted her not only willing but he wanted her pleased. He wanted to watch her face, her eyes shut her mouth open, her body wrapped around him. He wanted everything, but he couldn't have it.

If he had it his way he would have left his guilt in the tent with her, but every few days she liked to go to the river and bathe while the weather still permitted it. And no longer could he order Yazneg to her side, he could not trust she would be safe. Azog had given Yazneg to his cruelest orc, demanding he be whipped to an inch of his life – but he was not to be killed, and should he die Azog would flay the orc who killed him alive.

Without Yazneg Calla was forced to seek Azog out to go to the river. At first she had convinced herself it was not worth leaving the tent and facing the orcs alone, but she did truly enjoy sitting in the river as the sun warmed her skin – it was one of the few things she could do, and quite frankly she was bored.

Though her little white warg kept her more than entertained. Calla had taken to calling her daisy, for the first time the warg ran out of the tent she had brought back a little daisy in her mouth for her mother, with petals as white as her fur. The warg wasn't so little anymore, she now was the size of a normal warg her age if not a little bigger. Often times Calla brought her warg with her to bathe for she whined and barked when Calla left, and those pitiful sounds tugged on her heart as though the warg pup were a babe. So Calla would leave the tent with Daisy under her arm, and over the months she had been there the orcs had become more aware that she was Azog's – the proof was in Yazneg's stripped back – and they watched her warily as she walked, leering at her from afar. Daisy hadn't liked the river, her hackles had raised and she had growled lightly as she stared at her own reflection. But once Calla had removed her dressed and stepped in the little warg followed, though she was smart enough not to go too deep and get swept away.

In these moments Azog stood and watched Calla, with her hair straight and wet down her back,sit in the shallow water and bathe the warg. The warg should be with the other pups, learning the wild and what it took to survive; she could not stay by Calla's side forever, it would be the death of the white warg. But he had no way of speaking of to her for Yazneg could hardly move let alone speak, and he didn't think Calla would let him take the warg – not with the way she loved it. And there it was, love. Never before had he seen it, had he witnessed it; Calla loved her warg, and her warg loved her. Love was as foreign as kindness to him, and they both resided in the beautiful young woman that sat naked before him trusting him not to rape her.

Weeks it took for her bruise to heal, and with it much of his guilt had gone too; for he could look at her now and want her again, want her enough to almost start rubbing against her again. He didn't though, not at first. For remnants of the guilt, which had burned so warmly in his chest when he looked at her cheek, had remained and reminded him of what he'd done. So he first touched her, tracing her nude body with his hands. He grew to love taking her to the river, where she would remove her dress and wash herself clean, and then afterward he ran his hands along the length of her skin. She now shivered when he touched her breasts, his calloused fingers rough on her sensitive nipples which raised when he toyed with them. Her skin was smooth, without scar or freckle; the only thing marring her lovely skin was a small blemish near her mouth, though he thought it beautiful. He often ran his thumb over it, and then her lips; her soft full lips that he often wondered the feel of.

It was not until he saw a glimmer of want in her eyes that he lowered her unclothed body to the ground and spread her legs around him. Need had built in him so great that he hadn't had a clear enough mind to think of whether she enjoyed the feel of him rubbing against her, enjoyed how he pulled her legs further up his sides to thrust harder against her. He did not think of it, though she did. She laid beneath him and felt him full against her, remembering the way her muscles had swam and a blinding light had erupted behind her eyes as she'd felt the most incredible thing she'd ever felt before – and for a moment she had wanted him to take her, she'd ached for him to be inside her, until reality had come crashing around her.

So she laid beneath him trying to force herself to not enjoy it, it never worked. Cruelty, anger, ill words she spoke to herself in her mind, saying she was a whore when she felt her body buzzing; try as she might to keep herself from feeling anything as he growled and grunted and moaned above her, she failed. Most often he took no notice of her as he pleased himself, and she could escape with nothing more than dissatisfaction, longing, and a shame she didn't realize was lessening. But there were a few times when he caught sight of her face to see her eyes were closed, or he felt her legs tightening around him, or her hips sought his out, and he pleased her. And so he slowed his movements, pushing harder against her, holding her hips against his so that he was nearly entering her, and he was rewarded with her release – one that came without tears. She muffled her sounds behind his wrist, where she pressed her mouth to keep herself silent, but he had taken to pulling her hair so her neck was made to arch; leaving her nothing to restrain her own moans. And never before had he heard a more beautiful sound than when she moaned, a rough hard sound that came from her throat and made him nearly tear the cloth from around his waist and take her then.

Once he had gone to remove his loincloth, seeing plain in her eyes that she was ready only for her to tell him "no." It had been weak, lacking conviction, and he knew her resolve was waining. So he had hovered over her and lifted it, settling between her legs, seeing from the way her chest rose and fell she awaited with anticipation. He roared more in shock than in pain when the little white warg bit his leg, knowing what the word no meant. That was all it took for Calla's senses to return and for her to move from underneath him, gathering Daisy in her arms so he could not throw her aside. He had been left on his knees more in need than he'd ever been, his leg bleeding, and his eyes begging her; it hurt how much he wanted her, it throbbed and he almost whimpered. She saw his need and she put her warg down before laying on the ground, and without words he knew he would not be taking her.

He had growled enraged at coming so close to having her only for her to refuse him again, and he had turned her over and thrusted against her backside, and he heard from her gasps that the rocks were cutting into her skin. But he did not stop, he kept a hand on her back flattening her to the ground, and it might have been alright had she laid still beneath him. But the movement of his hips had her entire body moving with him, and her nipples dragged painfully against the cracks in the rocks as well as her skin. When he'd finished he'd stood and charged away from her, leaving her laying naked on her belly breathing heavily – and even then, she did not cry. For her own release had built in her and the feeling of her nipples being pinched on the rocks had sent a thrill through her, something she cursed herself greatly for as she put her dress on.

He would have tried to take her again, had wanted and sometimes almost did try, but he could see so clearly in her eyes that she was close to wanting it herself, that he waited. He continued to please himself and when he saw it he pleased her, watching and enjoying the way her mouth opened and her eyes screwed shut, her legs clenched around his hips and her nails digging into his skin as her release tore through her. It took every ounce of restraint he had, and then it took more, to keep himself from having her; wanting to be inside her, wanting the feel of her warmth as she sheathed him. Her will was crumbling piece by piece, and he realized that the more he aroused her the lesser her refusal became.

Months of this he broke down her resolve, it having been early spring when he'd first taken her and it now being the start of fall. She hardly even noticed; one day she would curse herself for the desires of her body, and the next she would embrace them. She was caught between a state of wanting and knowing she shouldn't – but day by day she remembered less and less why she shouldn't want him. He did in fact arouse her: his growls of pleasure, his hands on her hips, feeling him pressed fully against her spread legs, the gentler moments when they sat beside each other in silence doing nothing more than being in the other's company. There were days he didn't touch her at all, when he brought her something such as a hair tie or a comb; she did not know where he got these, if during the day he had gone to raid a village as orcs so often did, or it was something taken from a previous pillaging. But she accepted everything he gave her with a smile, seeing from the way he would nod once before sitting beside her that all he'd wanted by giving it to her was for her to like it. Something that touched her more greatly than anything, for in those moments he was hardly an orc to her at all.

…

Once and only once did Azog leave her alone by the river, returning to the camp to speak with his second of moving the camp for the oncoming winter. He had watched her step into the river, and then as her warg followed after, lunging for a fish and doing no more than making a splash that startled her; and he had turned his back on them, knowing if he didn't then he would stay, and he went back through the trees to the camp.

Yazneg, who could now stand, watched Azog return to the camp knowing he had left the girl at the river. It was not even five minutes later that Yazneg saw the small white warg run barking through the trees; and he realized he was not the only one to know the girl was alone. Whether it be fear of Azog that he might discover he'd known she was being hurt, or whether a tiny part of him cared that she was being hurt, he stood and made for where Azog had gone, gathering the wriggling warg in his arms. The moment Azog saw the warg he knew it had been a mistake to leave her, and every single orc watched as he ran for the trees taking up no weapon as he growled dangerously. Only moments later they heard a terrible shrieking and over that the bellowing of Azog. Abruptly the shrieks ceased and the orcs stood in silence, looking nervously at each other.

Yazneg had slunk slowly after Azog, holding the now still warg, as he walked through the trees. Blood dripped from Azog's hands, and the orc laid dead and torn at his feet. Yazneg held the warg, wrapping his hand around its jaw so it wouldn't bark, as he watched. He saw the girl on the ground, her dress pulled up exposing her legs and tears wet on her face as she stared up at Azog with wide eyes. Yazneg then watched shocked as she stood and wrapped her tiny arms Azog's waist and cried, and Azog stood motionless in his own shock as he felt her shaking against him. It was then Yazneg understood why Azog let her refuse him, why Azog gave into her and did not force himself on her; she trusted him, and more than that she was slowly growing to like him – and that Azog cared for her.

* * *

_The song is We Are Broken by Paramore. _

_Because I didn't say it; the orc didn't rape her. He was literally about to when Azog burst through the trees. As a warning,*(technical spoiler) I may have the sex next chapter - and keeping Azog as an orc, he really only knows how to rape. So she's not gonna enjoy it very much, however that's only in the beginning. And it won't be rape, she just won't find pleasure in it cause he's a little too rough. Just as a heads up so no one is like shocked and appalled at me.*(end)_

_Guest: thank you so very much, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I actually really enjoyed writing that chapter. And I'm glad you liked that he was guilty, I liked making him feeling guilty. _

_PS: thank you, I'm so freaking happy to hear you think it's credible cause he's difficult sometimes. There's certainly some heat between them, and it should happen next chapter. And I hate to say this but she's not gonna enjoy it in the beginning. _


	9. cause when it's over, it's all over

_IX. but I'll kneel down, wait for now/and I'll kneel down, know my ground/ I will wait, I will wait for you/ so break my step, and relent/well you forgave and I won't forget_

She flinched when he touched her in the days that followed, if she was not looking at him when he placed his hand on her she jumped startled. It had confused him, angered him, hurt him, that she did not like his hands on her. But he had been lying awake one night and heard her gasp as she woke, and he understood; he sometimes forgot that she was gentler than an orc, weaker and far more easy to harm. So he had laid still without moving and let her curl up beside him, her head on his arm and her body against his side, drawing comfort from his nearness. He gave her time, a few days to feel safe again, to let her draw safety from the feeling of him laying next to her. But he never would have guessed what his patience and his understanding would do for her.

It amazed her to no end how compliant he was to her wants, that he waited until it no longer struck her with fear to feel a hand on her shoulder before he reached for her again. On that day he had taken her back to the tent, wiping a few tears away, before laying her down; she had almost told him no, afraid he expected her to lie with him since he had saved her. But he did no more than lift her dress and inspect her legs, seeing the bruises already forming. He gathered her dress above her breasts and looked over every inch of her skin, seeing the bruises and the scratches on her legs and her hips. He had asked her something but she did not understand, and so he placed his hand between her legs and looked at her. "No," she told him shaking her head. "You saved -" she stopped realizing he didn't understand her and so she shook her head. Her eyes captured the small sigh that escaped him before he righted her dress, he was relieved, glad. He tried so hard to be gentle, with his massive body and his large hands and strength enough to rip an orc in half; gentleness was not easy, but he tried. And it made her heart flutter to know he tried only for her.

He had woken once to her touch, her fingers trailing over his chest as she traced his scars. He laid still as her hands moved to his arm and then up to his face, where her lovely blue eyes met his pale ones. He had taken a breath at the feel of her fingertips on his cheek as she traced the scars, a light touch that set fire to his blood. His eyes closed as she traced the lines there, down over his cheekbones across his mouth and to his chin, and he breathed deeply as desire surged through him. He sat up and she laid back on her own, staring up at him with warm eyes, and he pulled her dress above her hips as he settled between her legs which she had spread around him. He came as close to entering her as he could, thrusting against her as he held her hips against his. Her hands, which normally stayed by her side or gripped his arms, trailed along his chest and around his back making him nearly moan as she dug her nails into his skin. He cared not for the noises she evoked from deep within him, pulling her legs further up his sides, her own throaty groans matching his. He felt her legs tighten around him, felt her back arch and saw her mouth open though her desire was so great she could not utter a sound, and he continued moving above her after she relaxed.

Her eyes took in every inch of pleasure that crossed his face, his own eyes closed and his growls sounding loud in her ears. She felt him twitch as she ran her hands along his waist and his hips jerked, and he continued thrusting feeling her hands burning his flesh as she touched him. A strangled roar tore from his throat as he rocked against her a last time, and he settled breathless on top of her, moving so his forehead rested on hers. His eyes fell shut when she brought her hand to his face, her small hands cupping his cheek; it took all of his strength to break free from this reverie and roll off of her.

He always rolled away, never holding her, never staying; he did not permit himself those moments of gentle weakness, and she so greatly wished he would. She came to enjoy nothing more than the few seconds when he allowed for tenderness, when once he ran his hand through her hair as he stared down at her as she laid beneath him – for in those moments not only was she his, he was hers. And then he'd roll away.

He may have tried taking her again, for her eyes were so filled with wanting, but she did not refuse him laying her down and moving against her. Whether in the tent or by the river before the wind grew too chilled, he would turn to her and she would comply with not only what he wanted but what she desired as well. He enjoyed pleasing her, it thrilled him and drove him on to his own release after she had reached her own; and never before in all his days had he imagined he'd love so much to rub against a beautiful young woman, to not take her by force but wait until she was ready and compliant. He was not content, he was never fully satisfied without the feel of being inside her, but it was enough for the moment. Until it wasn't. She could see in his eyes as he lifted her dress that he wanted her, from the way his eyes took in her womanhood and the dark curls above it, she knew he did. She had never thought she would enjoy the feel of him against her, and yet she did more greatly than anything else. But she had seen him on the rare few days he bathed with her, he was far larger than her, and she did not think she would enjoy him taking her. But she knew his hunger for her was not satiated by merely rubbing against her, and she was finding it harder and harder to say no to him. He stopped trying to take her, stopped pulling his loincloth aside and making her say no; he asked, as much as he was able. He would sit between her legs, her dress either over her hips or she was completely bare, and he would stare hard at her with pleading eyes – and she said no. Until she didn't.

He had just returned with a group of orcs after a raid, leaving Yazneg with her to ensure no orc laid a hand on her. They would be moving the next month to the Ettenmoors where they would remain for the winter, but she was not dressed to withstand the cold. And so he had brought her back a coat, one that had belonged to a woman who had looked her size. Calla had smiled beautifully, putting the brown coat on and tying it; and not once did she allow herself the thought of who Azog had taken the coat from, of what had befallen the woman – thinking those thoughts would have drove her mad, and so she had refused. Instead she'd taken the coat as a wonderfully thoughtful gift and had been so touched she'd stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, seeing her actions had shocked him.

If he had been able he might have blushed, so uncomfortable and flustered had she made him, and he stared down at her as she looked up at him with bright eyes. With a smile she removed the coat and laid down and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch as she spread her legs and pulled her dress over her hips baring herself before him, and he lowered himself to his knees.

"No," she said when he moved to thrust against her, and he looked at her confused for it had been a month if not more the last she said no to him. His confusion morphed into surprise and then desire when she pulled his loincloth from his hips leaving them both bared. She had never seen him fully erect and it truly startled her how large he was, leaving her to breathe deeply as she waited for him to move. He could see in her eyes she wasn't entirely ready, though she was willing; and she wasn't ready, but she thought perhaps it would be as when he first began rubbing against her and she would feel nothing.

So taken with need was he that he did not refuse her though she was not ready, instead he turned her over and pulled her hips so she was up on her knees. And even then she did not resist, she let him move her as he wanted, let him plant her hands on the ground and then let him wrap his hands around her hips. He growled when he pulled her onto him, she was so small and tight around him he could have come then. With his hands firm on her hips he guided himself in and out of her, pushing her forward and then pulling her onto him. Over and over, faster and faster, he slammed her hips against his plowing into her; the sound of their flesh slapping together could be heard under his growls which went unhindered in the face of his extreme desire. As his finished swelled he pulled her onto him as he thrusted, nearly whimpering as he penetrated deeper, and he cried out shaking as he slammed into her a last time.

He leaned against her shoulder as he caught his breath before he laid on his side, his chest heaving as he stared up at the top of the tent. So enraptured was he in pleasing himself it had not crossed his mind that she was a young woman who had never been with a man, that he should have been more gentle, that it might have pained her to be taken the first time in such a manner from behind. Calla had lowered her belly to the floor, feeling Daisy come and nestle at her side feeling she was upset, tears overflowing from her eyes as she tried to breathe. It had taken everything she had, and then taken more, not to cry out; she hadn't thought it would hurt so much, she hadn't thought it would have felt as though he were tearing her apart every time he was inside her. No expectation did she have of enjoying this first time, but never had she thought it would have pained her so much she'd have been left unable to breathe. There was a fire between her legs, one that made her curl up and hold her warg against her chest. Azog would have known he'd hurt her if they had gone to the river the next day, for she could barely move her legs apart let alone walk. And never had she been more grateful than when he only laid beside her the next night, for he and a small group had been preparing to move their camp. Though the next night he lay beside her and he touched her cheek, a soft touch that spoke all the words the other couldn't understand, and she'd gotten herself up on her knees and let him lift her dress over her waist; wincing as he entered her. It felt more as though he were spearing her over and again as he slammed her hips against his, her breasts jumping wildly from where they hung in front of her.

Days turned to weeks and weeks to a month, they moved their camp to the Ettenmoors and the air had chilled and she was finding that it no longer hurt her when he moved inside her; she did not enjoy it, not as she had when he rubbed himself between her legs. But he enjoyed her, he was happy even to take her and then lay beside her, letting her trace his scars or to simply let her lay her head on his chest; and she often laid herself against him, seeking his warmth as the nights grew colder, simply enjoying the feel of his warm skin against her own.

Only did she find pleasure when she bled, for his desire was left unabated and so he stripped them both and placed a rag between them and rubbed against her; only then did she feel the thrill of desire course through her, and once he'd just barely entered her and they'd both come together. But after a week she ceased bleeding and he took her on her knees. Two months of this, two moonbloods, and she did not want to be on her knees; she wanted to be on her back looking up at his face as he entered her. That was where her pleasure lay, she knew. The problem was that she didn't think Azog had ever taken a woman when she was not on her knees, and she did not know to tell him what she wanted. And so one day she pulled on her coat and left the tent, first seeing Daisy who now spent her days with the other warg pups – and Azog had told her, through Yazneg ,that the white warg was by far the fiercest of them all. And then she went to find Yazneg. The orc was more willing to offer her kindness, for Calla had yelled at Azog for having him hurt – and it had been Calla who put Yazneg back into Azog's good graces. And so when he saw her walking to him he turned fully to her waiting for what she needed. "I need you to tell me how to say something."

* * *

_Song is I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons. _

_guest: I'm glad you liked it, thank you. And I'm glad to hear you're liking Azog, I'm actually really enjoying writing him. I do have to say I don't think I'm making him more human, I'm just giving him emotion. And Calla is bringing that emotion out of him, and I can't wait for her to bring more out._


	10. what you gain you throw away

Just as a little note, she's not gonna get pregnant until I make her pregnant; which will be a while from now. However there is also the scientific way of looking at it, so it just doesn't seem like I'm saying it's not happening until I say it does; they are different races, not just that but he's an orc and his genes are kind of mutated. So mixing those two genes can make for bad combinations that make it so the embryo cannot survive. So she could get pregnant from now to whenever I make her, but she miscarries and may think it's nothing more than her period. Just as a note, in case anyone wonders why she's not pregnant.

Guest: it was pretty intense, and thank you I'm glad you liked it.

PS: I'm glad to hear you survived, and I promise it's a lot better in this chapter. He's huge, over 7 ft; so he's like Yao Ming size, but he couldn't tear her literally. It did feel like that for her though, but I swear this chapter is better.

* * *

_X. please know my heart is in your hands/it's nothing that I understand, but when in your arms/you have complete power over me/So be gentle if you please, cause/your hands are in my hair but my heart is in your teeth/and it makes me want to make you near me always_

Azog returned to the tent when night fell to find Calla letting her hair loose. It was surprisingly warm in the tent, unlike the chilled air that made many shiver. He laid beside her and watched as she ran the comb through her hair, wrapping a curl round his finger. She smiled at him, a sweet lovely smile that made the corners of his mouth itch as though he wanted to smile in return. In moments like these his desire seemed to spring out of nowhere, the sweeter she was the more he wanted her. He sat up and she laid back, something he was unprepared for – she had taken to sitting on her knees when she saw his want. His blood boiled when she spread her legs around him, watching as she pulled her dress above her hips; oh how he wanted her. A look in her eyes told him she would not be refused and he had no way of telling her he did not wish to rub against her, he wanted to be inside her where her warmth surrounded him.

But she didn't move, she stayed on her back with her legs spread baring herself beneath his gaze. So he turned her.

"No," she said pushing his hand away, refusing to turn over.

He sat on his knees and stared down at her, his eyes pleading the words he could not make her understand. Again he tried to move her but she grabbed his wrist and held it, shaking her head once as she continued watching him. He finally grabbed her legs and turned her roughly onto her stomach, pulling her up onto her knees. And even then she refused, confusing him and leaving him stiff and throbbing ready to thrust inside her.

"**I don't like you taking me on my knees."**

He stilled when he heard her speak, her gentle voice growling words he was startled she knew. He stared down in her eyes as he hovered over her, watching as she rolled onto her back and looked up at him once more. He knew she hadn't enjoyed it, had thought with time she would, now he realized she wouldn't; and then he wondered if he had hurt her. And with that thought, which flushed him with guilt, he lowered himself between her legs to please her the only way he knew how – though he longed to be inside her, though he was never fully satisfied, he would give her what she wanted simply because she wanted it.

He pulled her legs around him, realizing he had missed the feel of them tight around his hips, just as he was realizing he missed seeing her beautiful face, and he made to thrust against her.

"No," she said again and he looked down at her bewildered.

"**What is it you want?" **he asked completely at loss.

She did not understand his words, but she knew what he was thinking. The words she had spoken before were the only ones she could remember, Yazneg having told her it would take her a good deal of time to understand the rough way the orcs spoke so he'd given her something small. It had surprised Yazneg, shocked him even, when Calla had finally told him she did not like being taken from behind but she did not know how to tell Azog. Yazneg had asked her what she did want and had been at loss for words as she mumbled she wanted to be on her back, for Azog had often pleased her that way when he did no more than rub against her. So baffled with uncomprehension that the growls from their tent had not been from Azog taking her but from merely rubbing himself between her legs, that she'd had to repeat herself. That had been the moment Yazneg realized how much Azog had truly come to care for the girl.

And so Calla was left with no more words for him to understand, so she showed him. She pulled the loincloth from his hips, taking in how hard he was, before looking back to his eyes. It was then he understood she wanted him inside her, just not on her knees. She watched the realization dawn in his eyes, and then the uncertainty; she was right, he had only ever taken a woman on her knees.

His blood burned hotter at knowing she wanted him; though a woman willing on her back was foreign to him he happily complied, realizing just as she had – that was where her pleasure lay. He could not slam her hips against his, could not pound into her fast and relentless; his pace was slower, not so rough, and it was almost agony how slow his finish swelled until he was crying out and shaking as he came. He laid breathing heavily on top of her, her small hands around his back her mouth against his shoulder and his head on the floor. Never had he thought it would feel like that: his finish searing him, his growls unrestrained turning to desperate moans the closer he came, her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands on his chest, thrusting into her as she lay beautifully beneath him.

It wasn't until the next night he realized he enjoyed taking her on her back more than on her knees, it was torture how slow pleasure built but he was left barely able to hold himself up as his finish tore through him. And he laid atop her for long moments after as he caught his breath and his heart beat furiously, and Calla came to love those moments. Often times he rested his forehead against hers, stroking her hair or her cheek; his eyes were not so hard, his face softened. In those moments he was completely and utterly hers, and it had shocked her how much she loved it. He came to enjoy those moments as well, allowing for a short while to be gentle; to touch her cheek, to feel her hands on his chest or his face, to see the warmth in her eyes before he rolled away.

He left her during the day, and without her warg she quickly grew bored of the tent. Most often she put on her coat and watched the orcs train the warg pups, seeing Azog was right in hers being the fiercest; by the middle of winter all of the younger wargs followed her, she looked like a little white queen. And more often than not Yazneg was at her side. Azog normally found them together whether outside near the wargs or her sitting with a blanket on her lap in the tent.

The first time he'd seen Yazneg near her he'd stopped and watched, and then he'd stepped closer and listened to her trying to pronounce the sounds of a word; her voice was small and gentle, too sweet for such dark sounds, but he almost smiled when he heard the word leave her mouth. He did not mind Yazneg teaching her their language, he liked it for it meant they would be able to speak to each other at some point; but he did not like how like Yazneg looked at her, as though she were a marvelous creature he wished to please – or kill. Sometime in the middle of winter, when their breath painted the air and small snowflakes fell from the sky, he stopped when he saw her with Yazneg; a small smile on her face as she spoke. Rage boiled in his veins as he looked at Yazneg, for talking was something he greatly wished to do with her and he hated Yazneg in that moment for being able to; not only that, but for making her smile. All mirth left Yazneg's face when he saw Azog walking toward them, and the pale orc looked down as Calla turned to him with a smile.

"**How was your day?"** she asked, sweetness wrapped around the dark sounds that made up his language. She continued gazing up at his surprised face looking pleased with herself.

"**Good,"** he answered back simply, staring hard at her waiting for her reaction.

"**That's good,**" she told him still smiling. She stared at him expectantly and he looked at her confused. "Ask me about mine."

Azog nearly smiled when Yazneg translated. **"How was your day, Calla?"** he asked her.

"**Good,"** she answered back even more pleased with herself; Yazneg had also taught her alright and bad, as well as I don't want to for the days she did not feel like laying with Azog.

The orcs nearest watched as Azog spoke with the girl, who they knew they were not allowed to touch, as well as knowing Azog had no plans of letting her go; and later that night they would talk excitedly and wondrously about how he'd raised his hand to her cheek, touching her fondly.

When night fell she had barely registered he was in the tent before was on her, he pulled her to her feet and tugged her dress from her shoulders; his cold hands raising bumps along her skin, making her shiver as he touched her hardened nipples. He spread the fire that burned in him to her, licking her bones with his flames. He was not rough as he entered her, he did not race to reach his finish; he let the torment of feeling passion in his fingertips drive him, holding her hips so his thrusts were angled up, watching the wild dance of her breasts as they rode with his movements.

He looked to her face when he heard her release a breath, seeing her eyes were closed and her lips parted. Even more he slowed his movements, an arm around her waist holding her hips off the ground as he drove into her. Her eyes opened as a startled moan escaped her, her dark blue eyes met his pale ones to see him watching her. She couldn't stop the moan from leaving her throat as he moved, her hands around his back, her legs tight around his hips. Her whole body buzzed, she could feel it even in the ends of her hair; never had she felt anything like this, and her eyes closed once more unable to stay opened.

He wanted to see every passing look of pleasure that crossed her face, and so he pulled her onto his lap as he sat on his knees – hearing her strangled moan as he filled her more than he had before, not even he could silence his growl at how she felt on top of him. He held her hips and thrusted into her, feeling her mouth against his chest as she muffled her sounds. Her next groan, which was loud and scratched deep in her throat, he heard as he pulled her hair arching her neck to see her face. Every ounce of ecstasy, her eyes shut or staring into his, her lips parted and her rough sounding moans swirling around him; his eyes took in it all. He felt her nails digging in his arms as she clung to him, felt her legs quivering as they tightened around him, felt her breasts rubbing against his chest as he moved in and out of her, felt her silky hair around his fingers as he kept her face angled to his, felt her hips pushing against his as she sought him, felt her grow tighter around him as her finish reached its peak, felt his own finish building as she arrived at hers – in that moment, as she nearly screamed, he felt her soul.

He released his hold on her hair, letting her rest her head against his chest as he sped up the movement of his hips, feeling her body going limp as the tension left her. He kept his arm around her back, the first time he'd held her, and whimpered unintentionally when he felt her mouth against his chest; her tongue running along his skin as she gently nipped him. He flattened her to the ground and thrusted wildly into her, roaring and crying out as he moved feeling her pressing kisses to his neck, her teeth dragging against his throat as her mouth sucked. He yelled as he came, feeling all of the universe surrounding him as he filled her with his seed.

There was no tender moment where he stared in her eyes, where he touched her face or she touched his; exhaustion settled around them both and he did no more than fall on his back as he panted, and she herself only grabbed the warg hide and pulled it over their waists before laying her head on his chest as she breathed heavily. She felt a twinge in her heart when he placed his hand on her back, pulling her closer and holding her against him. He felt a twinge in his own heart when she placed her hand on his chest; his heart beating in the palm of her hand.

* * *

_song is Near You Always by Jewel - however, I can't decide if it's from Calla's perspective, or if that how Azog feels. (metaphorically of course cause he has no hair)_


	11. when will my love ever find me

_XI. All the fear has left me now/I'm not frightened anymore/It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh/it's my mouth that pushes out this breath/and if I shed a tear I won't cage it/I won't fear love_

"Have I done something?" Calla asked Yazneg softly. From the moment she had stepped out of the tent that morning all eyes were on her; fleeting glances, searching looks, amazed eyes, awe-struck and wondrous looks, were cast her way.

Yazneg gave her his own searching look. "You laid with Azog last night," he said.

"Yes," she said looking away from him, not comfortable speaking of such things with him. "I've laid with Azog many nights."

Yazneg smiled, though it looked more a sneer on his malformed face. "You have not made those sounds before," he told her, remembering clearly his own shock at hearing her more feminine sounds beneath Azog's loud growls. He'd known Azog was starting to care for her but he hadn't realized how much; hearing her moans as they had grown louder and more frequent, he knew Azog cared greatly for her.

Wide eyed and mortified she looked at him. "Could you really hear us?" she asked meekly.

He took no pity on her, he knew she'd enjoyed herself and he couldn't understand it. "What makes you different?" he asked her, his eyes narrowed as he stared hard at her. "Why did he keep you?"

She looked at him startled. "I don't," she stumbled over her words wondering what she was supposed to say. "He had been hurt and I helped him," she told him softly, knowing that was why Azog had not only saved her but why he had not hurt her.

Astonishment cloaked his gray face as he stared at her. "Why would you help him?"

She looked up at him. "Honestly?" she asked shrugging.

His bafflement only grew, for she had helped not only an orc but an orc as large and terrifying as Azog; and had done it for no reason at all. No wonder Azog had taken her for himself, even then she had proven to be kind. He made to ask her another question but he saw Azog behind her and he almost recoiled as he shut his mouth; he did not think Azog would like him asking her those questions.

Calla had come to learn that when Yazneg withdrew from her it was because of Azog, and she turned to him with a small smile. **"Hello,"** she said when he stopped in front of her.

"**How is your day?"** he asked, the corners of his mouth just barely curled – he did not notice, but she did.

"**Alright,"** she answered with a shrug, she did not think he would take kindly if she told him having all the orcs eyes on her made her uncomfortable, so she did not mention it. **"How is your day?"**

"**Good. Go back to the tent,"** he answered.

She continued looking up at Azog as Yazneg translated, and from the look in his eye she did not ask why. He barked a word and she looked to see Daisy running to her.

"We are leaving, we should back on the morn," Yazneg said, telling her Azog's next words.

She turned to Yazneg with wide eyes. "You are leaving me for the night?" she asked looking back to Azog.

He stared down at her large eyes as Yazneg translated. He did not want to leave her for the night, not without Yazneg to ensure she would be both safe and there when he returned – but Yazneg was one of their fastest riders and they needed supplies so he had to come.

"**She asks if she will be alone,"** Yazneg said, suspicion in his voice.

Azog might have turned hot eyes to the orc for daring to show any ill thought toward her, but his own suspicions had risen. **"A few orcs will remain here to keep our camp and see to the wargs,"** he told her and waited for her response.

She sighed when he did not say Yazneg would stay with her, for though she did not feel entirely safe with him she knew he would not hurt her in fear of Azog. Now she was being left alone with a number of orcs she did not know or trust, nor did she know if Azog trusted them. And so she looked up at him dismally. "Why can't you stay?" she asked softly, feeling as though she were child begging her father not to leave her for work.

Azog's eyes softened when Yazneg, who was just as surprised, told him what she'd said. He raised a hand to her chin, and she felt his touch as though his arms were encircling her. **"I will return to you on the morrow,"** he told her, knowing he was allowing for weakness, knowing it was not the place to show her his affections. She smiled turning her head down, looking almost bashful before she turned toward the tent calling Daisy to her side; her smile had been beautiful, breathtaking to him, and it had been entirely worth any amount of gentle weakness if only to see her smile.

Daisy had been growing rapidly, her head now reaching the top of Calla's waist, her jaws powerful enough to rip her apart. Calla had seen Daisy tear an animal with her teeth, dominate every male her age with ferocity enough to frighten them; but in that moment, the first they'd had together to in months, she was a warg pup nestling against her mother's side as she laid down, trying her best to crawl back into her dress to lay between her breasts – the sound of Calla's heart a rhythmic beat that Daisy's drummed in tune with. In that moment Cally lay on her side wrapping her arms around the warg, and Daisy's tongue often caressing her neck with the sweetest of kisses.

Calla woke to Daisy's vicious growl, her hackles raised and her eyes blazing as she stared toward the entrance to the tent. Calla placed a hand on Daisy's side, feeling her heart racing in fear; though it was an unjust fright for an orc scooted a piece of wood used as a plate through the tent's flaps and then skulked away, duly frightened by the warg. Daisy ceased growling but she stayed sitting erect at Calla's side, glaring at the tent flaps should anything return; Calla ate the breast of a deer she'd been given, one of the rare few the orcs had caught, and gave the bone with some meat on it to Daisy. When they both finished eating Calla laid back down and Daisy laid her heard over her hip, still watching for any sign of danger.

Azog and the others did not return the next day, though this was not uncommon or noteworthy to the orcs that had remained at camp it worried Calla. Several different thoughts raged through her mind, of Azog being hurt again, of him being dead though she had trouble picturing anything killing him, Azog deciding not to return; she thought of him all day, wishing for him at her side, and she dreamed of him all night – dreams where he held her to his chest, where he made her scream in the most exulting ecstasy imaginable. She was woken again by Daisy, though the warg was not growling nor were her hackles raised in alarm, she stood over Calla watching for the orc she knew was coming. Calla waited thinking it was the orc bringing her food, though Daisy had growled every time he came near, and she nearly jumped to her feet when she saw Azog enter the tent.

He had not wanted to roam a day longer, raiding another village – though their supplies had surmounted greatly from what they'd taken from the villages; and he may not have admitted it, but he had been afraid she would not be here when he returned. A weight left him at seeing her, and his body burned when she stepped to him, her small hands planted flat against him as she pressed a kiss to his chest; he nearly purred at the feel of her tongue on his skin and he felt the blood swell in his groin as he hardened. In seconds her dress pooled on the ground his loincloth following suit, and he entered her before he'd even laid her on the ground. He lasted only minutes, the feel of her around him again too much for the width of his desire; he knew from her soft moans her own release had been coming, but he'd finish before he could please her – something that frustrated him for he had wanted to please her as well, but his greed had taken hold and he'd lost all gentleness and care. But he was left lying over her breathing heavily feeling she was wet and aroused, and he'd never wanted anything more than to be ready to take her again.

But he wasn't, and so he rolled off of her. She ached with a fierce desire for him to be inside her again, having never thought the way he filled her would complete her so; she was left empty when he'd turned on his back, slipping limply out of her. She placed her head on his chest, having yearned for the feel of him the night before; yearned in a way that almost frightened her with how she had come to need him in order so she could breathe. He slid out from underneath her and reached for the brown sack he'd dropped at seeing her, and he pulled a dress out of it and held it to her. She sat up surprised with a smile as she held the dress to her chest, seeing it looked about her size; it was a lovely green color, and she could see that from the sleeves it would hang from her shoulders. He took the dress from her and laid it aside, stroking her breasts briefly before he reached back into the sack.

She gasped when she saw the hair clip, one more extravagant than she'd ever before seen. It was silver with a swirling design carved into it, and embedded in the design were small pearls; it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her. **"Thank you,"** she said, her eyes flicking to his before they looked back to the clip. She couldn't have kept herself from smiling if she'd wanted to as she pulled her hair back into a bun and put the clip in place. She looked at him when she'd finished to see him watching her with the smallest of smiles curling the corners of his mouth. There wasn't a single thought in her head as she moved, at least not a conscious thought; but she moved toward him and stood on her knees as she took his face in her hands and kissed him. It was brief and light but it shocked him motionless as she pulled back to look at him; he did no more than blink at her, no words or thoughts to express what her mouth on his had felt like only that he wanted to feel it again. As though she saw the want in his eyes she pressed her lips against his once more, holding them there as he slowly melted into her.

He lowered her to the floor, regretfully having to pull away from her soft full lips so he could take her again; his every movement, his thrusts, his hands on her breasts teasing her nipples – everything he did, he did to please her. To hear her moaning under the weight of pleasure, her head thrown back, her hands around his waist and her hips raising to meet his; everything he did was to bring her to a release, one that wracked through her body and made her spine quiver. And then he brought her to another, and his own release followed shortly after; thrusting into her, watching her face as lust openly etched itself into her features, feeling her tighten around him, he hadn't realized his finish was swelling in him until he came loud and shaking. And he laid on his back and wrapped his arm around her back as she laid across his chest, having come to need her next to him so he could sleep. He laid breathless and content as sleep crept upon him, and he no longer had to dream of her at his side for he could feel her against him. And she laid on him tired and happy, her heart still drumming heavily in her chest; as though each beat filled her with him, as though he were in her bloodstream.

* * *

_song is Fumbling Toward Ecstasy by Sarah McLauchlan. In my humble opinion, I think it's her best song. Also, I made a new picture for this story and I hope it didn't confuse anyone who was looking for the story and saw a new pic. And another thing, last one, I've been putting little hints of Stockholm in her actions - they aren't huge, and may not even be noticeable, but if she does something that doesn't make a whole lot of sense given her situation (like learning the orc who kidnapped and tried to rape her a few times was leaving for the night and not once did she think of escaping with her warg who would kill any orc that tried to stop her) it's cause of Stockholm.  
_

_Guest: thank you, it gave me a lot of feelings too as I was writing it. _

_PS: thank you so much, I'm glad you thought it was believable. I've been noticing that I've been doing a lot sex lately, but there's a lot of tender moments in them - and it has him being more tender after, and in front of others. _


	12. all my life all I have craved is to seen

_The song I used is The Hardest of Hearts by Florence and the Machine; and I did the song in this chapter a little differently, I thought the lyrics went so well with the story and the chapter that I wanted to use the whole song. So I variously put the lyrics to the song throughout the chapter, and I hope that it reads well. _

_Guest: thank you so much, that was so kind. I'm really glad you like it. _

_PS: I'm glad you think all the sex scenes have a purpose, cause I try to make them have one; like bringing out his tender side, or bringing her out of her shell. I would love to be able to just write a sex scene anytime for any reason, but I'll go and try to write one and I'm all like, uh I don't know where to start this seems really awkward. Plus I've never had sex, so it makes it a lot harder. However, I'm so glad you don't think the scenes in here are monotonus, cause I try to make them different and to use different words; but there's really only so many words to use for certain things. _

* * *

_XII. There is love in your body but you can't hold it in/It pours from your eyes and spills from your skin/Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks/And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts_

Days turned to weeks and weeks into months, the air did not bite so chillingly giving the promise of warmer days ahead, and animals returned from winter slumber giving the orcs more to eat. Azog spent most every night learning her body, knowing it more than he knew his own. He knew exactly what it took to please her, and he could please her in any way if he made her wet enough for him; he could even take her on her knees, many a time she had grabbed his wrist and told him **"slower,"** until on his own he had learned to slow his pace. But he did not like her on her knees, he needed the feel of her legs around him and the enrapturment on her face as she came and seeing her breasts dance with every thrust, and he craved for the moments she pressed a kiss to his skin – her teeth nipping him, her tongue and lips sucking the base of his neck. He loved her mouth with her soft full lips, her warm wet tongue, and her sweet kisses. He came to enjoy, if not love, the feel of her mouth against his own; it set a fire beneath his skin that burned not only him but her as well. She did not kiss him often, only in the sparest of gentle moments when their hearts beat in tune as they lay breathing deeply and nude after they had laid together.

Once and only once she had moved from where she lay on his chest to hover over his face, and he stared at her with eyes he didn't know clearly shone with his adoration for her – it was seeing that, the warmth and care in his eyes, that had her bending to his mouth. Kisses were unknown to orcs, most had never even seen them; and though Azog was the first man she had kissed, she had seen many before. So where he had slowly begun kissing her back she moved her mouth over his; and she had coaxed his lips apart, and timidly she had run her tongue along his making him moan surprised. For several long moments he had let her stroke him with her tongue, his hands around her back squeezing her tightly. She gasped surprised when he shoved her away from him and hurried out of the tent, and she laid with tears burning in her eyes knowing he wouldn't come back until the next night; and when he did return he only laid beside her, and she didn't dare reach for him, nor did she ever kiss him like that again in fear he would leave her once more.

_There is love in our bodies and it holds us together/But pulls us apart when we're holding each other/We all want something to hold in the night/We don't care if it hurts or we're holding too tight_

It had scared him how apart of him she had become, as though his lungs could not breathe unless hers did, as though his heart could not beat unless hers beat with his. He could see she cared for him but he didn't trust it; she was a young woman who's home had been destroyed and she almost raped and killed, and then she was taken by an orc and forced to stay. He could not let himself believe she truly cared for him, or if she only thought she had to. But more than that, he could not believe that a young woman – a kind, and loving, and caring, and sweet, and beautiful young woman like her – could ever feel anything for someone as ugly and vulgar as himself. And with those thoughts striking him across the face every time he looked upon her, he could not lie with her; not when all he could think of was her forcing herself to care for him, not when his chest burned at the sight of her face or the feel of her on him or having her near, not when he tried so hard to convince himself that she didn't matter to him, and not when he knew that that was entirely untrue.

_There is love in your body but you can't get it out/It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth/Sticks to your tongue and shows on your face/That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste_

It was a month of this, of him unable to be in her presence for more than a minute when all he could see was her hurt at his treatment of her and all his mind could think was her betraying him – and never did it cross his mind that why he distanced himself from her, refusing even to sleep at her side, was to protect the heart he hadn't known he'd even had let alone given to her. So he stayed away, sleeping with the other orcs and Daisy refusing to leave his side if she couldn't be at Calla's – a constant reminder of the way Calla loved – the thought of getting rid of her not even an unconscious thought.

Only one orc dared to suggest sharing her, if she displeased him; Azog hit the orc so hard it'd been flung in the air and landed feet away from him, landing with a loud thud, his neck broken from Azog's strike. None of the orcs dared think about the girl after that, seeing she was to remain Azog's only; wondering if perhaps Azog had taken her as a mate, something that was unheard of and becoming all too clear.

_Darling heart, I loved you from the start/But you'll never know what a fool I've been/Darling heart, I loved you from the start/But that's no excuse for the state I'm in_

With spring approaching they moved their camp, for trolls would begin to come out at nightfall again and other orcs would be leaving their own camps; and so they left the Ettenmoors, riding fast on their wargs. Calla sat in front of Azog on his dark warg, Daisy still too small for her to think of riding, though she ran quick and white next to them keeping pace with the older and larger warg. It was the first in a month she had felt him against her, that she felt his touch, and she found that it was a little easier to breathe. She leaned into his chest, resting her head on his arm, feeling more whole than she had in weeks simply from his touch. He felt her mouth press once against his arm and he sighed, having not realized his restlessness at night or the ache he felt during the day had been him missing her. No arm did he wrap around her, no kiss did he press against her head; those were commonalities of a man, but he was an orc.

_My heart swells like a water at weight/Can't stop myself before it's too late_

They rested at night, barely making a camp at all; only stopping to sleep for a few hours before they were up again. Azog sent Yazneg and several others forward without rest one night taking with them the young wargs, to make their camp by the river in the shadow of the Misty Mountains; this was normal, though Azog usually went ahead. But he remained with Calla, without a tent to hide her from the eyes of the others he did not trust even Daisy to keep Calla safe if anyone had it in their mind to take her. It was on the next day, when they were rode through their last leagues before they reached their camp, that a group of rangers came upon them. The orcs numbers were few, for over half of them had gone ahead, and so the rangers descended upon them like thieves in night under the sun and overtook them.

Azog turned at the sound of a squeal to see an orc being thrown from a warg with an arrow in its throat, and then as a man rode on horse and slit the orc's throat. With a growl he spurred his warg onward, feeling Calla grow tense as she listened to yells and horses and wargs and the shrieking of orcs. He would have stayed behind and fought, killed every single man who dared face him, but Calla held his arm and he couldn't leave her. He turned often to see if they were being pursued and smiled as a warg killed a man with its teeth, its rider standing and fighting the rangers who had lost their horses.

He growled when he felt the sharp pain of an arrow in his leg, which stuck not only in him but also his warg's leg, and Calla was thrown from his arms as the warg fell. He tried pushing the warg off him, his leg trapped underneath, but it did nothing but make the beast roar in pain as well as himself as he pulled on the arrow.

"**Run,"** he ordered her when he saw her less than a foot from him, winded and battered but none the less unharmed, but she did not know that word. He reached for his mace, which lay just out of his reach, and he growled through clenched teeth as he stretched his leg and the arrow inside it pulled.

"Azog," Calla yelled and he looked up in time to move his head out of the way of a sword.

She hadn't seen the three men on horses until it was too late, and she backed away as one caught sight of her; even then she could see the clear shock in his eyes as he saw she was a woman. He drove his horse toward her and she made to scream Azog's name again but his hand clamped over his mouth and he pulled her onto his lap as he rode away.

_Hold on to your heart/Cause I'm coming to take you_

The man kept his arm firmly around her middle, locking her arms in place, and leaving her no way to escape from him. He had looked upon her with compassion, had seen the girl just barely a woman with an orc pack, had seen the beauty beneath her fear, and had taken it upon himself to rescue her from the endless pain of rape he knew she had endured.

"Please," she said looking up at him, tears in her eyes. "Leave me here and go, he won't come after you."

He looked down at her lovely face before looking back to the land before him. "I will not inflict that upon you," he swore to her. "On my life I promise you, milady, I won't let pain fall upon again."

"He will kill you," she told him and he laughed arrogantly, for he himself was but a young man; at least for one of the Dunedain.

"He is already dead," he told her. "Nothing more do you need to fear. If I have to stay with you for the rest of my life, I will keep you safe." And he would, though his heart filled his blood with fear each time it beat – and he turned warily behind him, the large orc having still been under the warg when he'd taken the girl, and it had screamed so violently it had made them both shiver, and to his horror he saw the pale orc and his black warg racing toward them and another ranger riding further behind unable to match their vicious speed.

"It is alright," he assured her, seeing she had spotted the orc as well. "I will take you from this horror, you will live free and happy, I will ensure it." He did not believe it, he had seen the warg too late and with its speed they would be overcome shortly. But he greatly wished he could save her, that he could save himself.

"Leave me," she begged again. "He will take me and you can live. Just leave me, please," she sobbed desperately.

"I will not leave you to this," he told her, holding her tighter as he kicked his horse faster. Though he had no choice in the matter, for just as he'd suspected moments later the warg's jaws closed around the horse's leg and they were thrown.

He kept his arms locked around her, taking most of the blow as they crashed onto the ground. In seconds the orc lept from his warg and made for them, and he grabbed his sword and planted himself in front of the girl. His sword was no match for the warg's large mace, and he cried out as the mace struck his arm sending the sword aside and his arm shattered, but he still stood determined ready to die for the young woman as the orc raised his weapon once more. It bellowed as the ranger that had been racing after them loosed an arrow, lodging in its pale shoulder and the mace lowered. He lunged forward, spearing his sword into the orc's other leg bring it to its knees. And still it did not stop fighting, and he could not understand why the creature fought so hard for her; it swung its mace behind him and struck the other ranger killing him from the force he hit the ground, his neck snapping back and then twisting.

The orc then turned to him, slowly getting to its feet as blood poured from both it's legs. A terrible coldness filled his heart and he looked down uncomprehending at the sword sticking out of his chest.

Azog panted in both weariness and pain as he looked at the blade impaling the man, and he watched him fall dead to the ground; Calla stood immobile, her eyes wide, and her hands formed as though they still held the sword. That was a moment of many things. Azog now knew undoubtedly Calla cared for him. That was the moment he loved her.

She had been strong through everything, even when she felt weak and afraid; she had survived her village's attack, had survived Azog trying to rape her, had survived continuously refusing him, survived an orc almost raping her, survived the first time Azog had pleasured her and her hatred of herself, survived the first time Azog had taken her and all the times after that, had survived coming to care for him in a way that made her hurt. But in that moment, for the first time since she laid eyes on Azog, after killing a man who had sworn so fervently to save her, she broke.

_Hold on to your heart/Cause I'm coming to break you  
_


	13. who cares anyway

_guest: thanks. _

_PS: I was actually thinking of using lyrics from that song (and I might still later) but then I found Hardest of Hearts. I guess it's answered what happens with her now in this chapter, so I'll just let you read._

* * *

_ XIII. I feel like I am dead but breathing/I know because my heart is beating._

All the rangers were dead, the orcs had killed them all; they were safe once more with only five of their own dead. But Azog knew looking at Calla's face, not all was right. She stared at her small shaking hands as though they were covered with the blood of her inhumane act, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. She screamed, broken and desperate, and he felt it like a dagger in his heart. No living thing had she ever killed, but at her feet lay a man; one she had killed to save him. Seeing her as she cried he was forced to remember she was not only human but a woman, and they were gentle and weak and needed a man to protect them.

He heard the sound of the wargs as they ran, their orcs heading them toward their leader. He looked to Calla, seeing her small body and her tears and he knew exactly as they would see her – weak. "No," he told her roughly, knowing she needed time to grieve but not having any time to give her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her: "no," he growled, the only word he knew to tell her to stop crying. She stopped and looked up at him wide eyed and confused, and he said "no" softer a last time before turning to his warg. It was in that movement that he grunted as pain tore through him, he ached in his legs and he ached in his shoulder, and he limped toward his warg who looked as ragged as he felt.

He mounted the warg and turned to Calla, seeing she had ceased crying and wiped her tears, and was looking at him waiting for him to tell her what to do. **"Come,"** he said holding his hand out to her, groaning as the arrow in his shoulder stretched with his movements as he pulled her in front of him; and he felt every drop of blood that was squeezed out of his wounds as the warg ran, and by the time they made it to the camp he was panting and covered in sweat.

"**Is the tent made?" **demanded of Yazneg, shoving aside the hands that tried to heal him.

"**Yes,"** Yazneg said concernedly looking at the blood on Calla's dress and the blood on Azog.

"**Take her there,"** Azog told him. **"And give her her warg." **He watched as Calla followed slowly behind Yazneg, looking back once with eyes that were slowly darkening to life, before she turned and he lost sight of her. He roared when an orc pulled the arrow out of his shoulder, and he turned to strike him but the pain in both his legs nearly brought him to his knees. Stifling a growl he turned to the tent and walked as firm as he could, refusing to show them any weakness. He smiled slightly at the excited whispers that sounded with his back turned; **"she killed one of the rangers,"** one said, followed by a shocked exclamation. **"Both Azog's legs were wounded, an arrow in his shoulder, and she stabbed a sword through the man's heart."**

She was no longer weak in their eyes, she could defend herself and their leader, she was a killer. But any mirth Azog felt disappeared as he reached the tent, knowing the reason the orcs now thought of her with awe, was the very reason she hated herself. He entered the tent, seeing Daisy laying with her neck craned to look at the intrusion but her back to him, and Calla laying against her. But she did not move, she stayed with her face pressed into her warg's fur, tears leaking from her eyes, and Azog did not try to touch her. Wounded and exhausted he lay down groaning and fell quickly to sleep.

Calla didn't. She didn't sleep at all that night – unable to stop hearing the man's voice as he swore to take her from this life of horror, of his compassionate eyes and determination to save her though he knew he would die. Sleep did not will her rest, her heart did not will her peace, so she lay suffocating beneath the weight of hatred and her hands painted with blood she could not see.

It was not until the second morning, when his wounds did not keep him slow and weak, that he realized she did not sleep; she barely even moved. She lay still against Daisy who stayed only to keep her mother safe, feeling she was despairing. Azog did not know what to do for her, to do with her; he all but had to chew her food and shove it down her throat, but he could not force her to sleep. And when sleep overtook her unwillingly she woke gasping with a scream trapped in the back of her throat in the middle of the night – it had scared him the first night to hear her as she woke, a choked sound and Daisy whining, and then Calla had wept; long hard sobs that left her unable to breathe, and still he did not touch her. He was afraid to, in all honesty, he knew she would recoil from him for it was he she had killed a man for. It was as when she had first saved him, offering selfless kindness in healing him, and he had been unable to hurt her for the memory of her actions; this was the same, he could not demand she cease crying or to act strong for she had saved him. And so he laid or sat next to her wishing to know what to do to make her stop grieving.

_Two months later_

"**Has she moved?"** Yazneg asked, finding that against his own wishes he was concerned for the girl.

Azog snarled his displeasure, and his own worry. **"Nothing more than raising food to her mouth when I force her and rolling over,"** he answered roughly. **"How much more time am I to give her? She should not care any longer." **

Yazneg shook his head, thinking very hard about what he knew of humans, of what he knew of Calla. **"She does not know how to see herself as anything other than the girl who willing put a sword in another human's heart,"** he told Azog, having lost much of his timidness to speak of Calla a month ago when Azog first asked him what to do about her; knowing Azog would demand an answer should he remain silent. Azog's eyes, pale and hard, still made him shrink inside.

"**She does not wish to live,"** Azog said realizing it was true, feeling a weight on his shoulders at the thought of losing her now; now that he knew she cared for him, and now that he was realizing just how much he cared for her.

Yazneg looked at his leader, the orc he followed into battled and the orc who struck fear in his heart; Azog did not look so fearful now, he looked like a lovelorn man – though it was in his frustrations and his worries and sadness that he was most vicious, and it was in this state that the orcs feared him the greatest. **"Perhaps she has forgotten why she wants to live,"** Yazneg said, though it sounded more a question.

Azog looked at the ground as he thought, his pale eyes hard and glaring as though he were angry; but he was wondering perhaps if he showed Calla he cared for her, then maybe she would smile again. Abruptly he turned from Yazneg, forgetting his existence, and made for the tent knowing she would destroy herself if he did nothing – a thought that pierced his heart with the sharpest of fears, for he could not bear the thought of it. She did not look at him when he entered, he did not expect her to, she did nothing but lie on her back with Daisy at her side staring up into nothingness as she barely breathed.

"Calla," he said though she still did not look at him, as though she could not even hear under the noise of bitter self-loathing. He grabbed her and Daisy rose snarling, but she recoiled when he hit her firm on the nose; if Calla was her mother then he was her father, and though Daisy bore no love for him she did not dare defy him.

He sat her up and she looked at him with a blank face and eyes vacant, as though her hold on life had already gone. So he hit her, a hard slap across the cheek that whipped her head to the side from the force; but she looked at him with dazed startled eyes as she brought a hand to her face. She stared at him disbelieving, one of the first emotions he'd seen in weeks from her and it made his heart swell with delight. She was not nearly as pleased as he, for her cheek stung and her head rung, and he was holding her arm tightly in his hand. She looked at him waiting for what he wanted, wondering if he would kill her now – almost hoping he would so she could stop feeling so cold.

He was left unsure of what to do, for he had no way of speaking the words he wished to tell her and in all honestly he did not know what he wished to say. So she continued staring at him waiting and he continued looking at her almost timidly. He placed his hand over his heart, staring hard into her still shocked eyes, and then he put his hand over her own heart. It took several moments of his hand between her breasts, the meaning of his actions churning in her mind in face of the month he had refused to be near her. And there it was, the reason she should want to live; she had forgotten it in the face of horror and blood on her hands and pain.

He was surprised when she moved, a second and she had gotten on her knees and kissed him, pressing her body into his as she forced her tongue in his mouth. He growled when he felt her hands pulling away his loincloth, months of desire unabated from his own worries to hers, and she lowered herself onto his lap and he slipped inside her. Their moans were loud and desperate as they moved together, Azog showing her in his gentleness how he cared for her, and Calla remembering the feel of caring for him. He moved specifically for her, slowing himself stopping himself so that she would come first; she shook against him, her nails biting into his skin, her moan tearing from her throat, and her walls clenching around him driving him to his own release.

He laid back keeping her laying over him, staying inside her warm and soft, and he allowed for the moment to run his fingers through her hair. His hand moved to her back when she sat up and looked at him, her eyes not so empty or sad though the spark of life had not yet returned to them. She placed her hand over his heart and said; "love."

His brow furrowed, it was such a strange word with even stranger sounds. His mouth was unused to forming the sound so that when he said, "love," in return, it was too rough and ugly.

But the corners of her mouth twitched in the first formings of smile and settled back on top of him, pressing a kiss directly over his heart.

_Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough/__And things go wrong no matter what I do/__Now and then it seems that life is just too much/__But you've got the love I need to see me through_

* * *

_lyrics from You've Got the Love by Florence and the Machine and Dead but Breathing by Lesley Roy._

_Her "waking up" at the end to me seemed a little fast, however I think it's because it's just unnatural for someone to be so low and then to come back so quickly. And psychological issues aren't natural, and she's been through a lot so her mind is already a little damaged and changed from everything that's happened. But she was basically to the point where she couldn't feel like that anymore, she was either going to just stop feeling like that or she was gonna kill herself. I just wanted to offer an explanation as to why I did it like that, in case anyone was put off by it. Also, they did both basically say they loved each other; (which I'm so freaking happy for) but they're still going to be feeling each other out, and she's gonna integrate more with the orcs. So it's not just going to jump straight into them being all lovely.  
_


	14. cause when it's over all that matters

_XIV. Lovely girl won't you stay, won't you stay, stay with me/All my life I was blind, I was blind, now I see_

It was a month before she could smile fully again, a month before the light shone in her eyes once more – the light that was proof of her will to live. Through that month Azog had held her, had pressed his hand over her heart and said as best he could, "love," though he did not know the word; all he knew was that it explained whatever it was he felt. It explained the rush of desire he felt when near her, the overpowering need to keep her safe, the unbearable thirst to see her beautiful face and hear her voice, and it explained his inability to imagine resuming his life when she was not apart of it. And when he took her he moved only to please her, slowly and angled to make her moan with every thrust; and when she had come he turned her on her knees and slammed her hips onto his, following her shortly after. Many a time he could bring her to a second release, moving against her as she laid on her belly with her hips in the air. And every time he rolled onto his back and pulled her to his chest, holding her against him as his heart drummed to the beat of hers.

A warmer breeze blew against them when the orcs raided a village next, Azog leaving her with Daisy who had grown larger in only a months time. On their return she stood beside Yazneg waiting, and all the orcs watched enraptured as Azog lept from his warg and wrapping an arm beneath her round bottom he carried her to the tent. They did not miss the sounds of their leader and his mate as he took her, her lovely moans and his hard growls sounding in the quietest moments. There had been several many orcs who had loathed her presence in their camp, had wished to fuck her and kill her as they did all the others; but they thought this no longer. Not when the woman Azog had taken up was spoken of so highly by the few orcs who had witnessed her kindness, not when she was willing to kill for their leader. Not when she was a killer, as they were. And so gradually the orcs accepted her presence among them until they no longer cared, and many of them gave her the same kindness as they did their fellow orcs – which wasn't much kindness in all truth, but she took it with a smile all the same.

For now she could walk to the river to bathe without Azog and feel not even the slightest of fears that any of them may attack her, for they no longer leered at her. She was not theirs to have, they now fully knew, she was not theirs to dream of tasting and fucking; she was Azog's, and it was now all too clear she would remain his to the end of her days, something she seemed only too happy to remain. If Azog, their leader, were considered a king then she would be his queen; the orcs did not dare upset her. All too used to her lovely smile, which she gave often, had they become. And as quick as they were to please Azog in fear of him, they were only too quick to please her for want of nothing more than her smile: and because it greatly pleased Azog to see their good treatment of her. Brutality and cruelty was all that had been known to them, they dropped something they were struck for their stupidity, they did not obey their leader they were whipped or killed; though Azog had found happiness in Calla his treatment of his orcs did not change, and so they still bowed their heads meekly and obeyed him. But when Calla had seen an orc drop something, she had done the most astounding thing they'd ever beheld; she picked it up and handed it back to the orc, offering him a small smile and a kind word before she turned away. Never before had they witnessed any sort of beauty as they did her, and many of them grew to even love her in their orcish ways as they feared Azog.

Though she could bathe without him only the sparest few days did Azog not join her, for he could never resist the lure of her naked body. Most often Calla coaxed him out of his loincloth and into the river, allowing his hands to roam as they pleased as she cleaned herself – which ended in her on his lap moaning as he took her. And many a time she convinced him to sit in the water with her, enjoying as the days grew hot the chill from the river; and as any man in love he did as she wished simply because he loved her and she wanted him to, even though he was an orc.

Weeks turned to months, hot turned to chilled, and Azog left her more frequently to prepare to move to the Ettenmoors again for the oncoming winter. Calla spent her time without him by Yazneg, who taught her more and more of orcish and who grew more and more impressed with her cleverness as she quickly began to learn the language.

"**How was your day?"** Calla asked Azog as she laid over his chest after they'd lain together.

"**Good,"** he answered, his fingers wrapped in her longer hair. **"We leave in a weeks time." **

"**So soon?"** she asked looking up his long chest at him.

He nodded staring back at her. **"It is cold, food is small." **She could form simple sentences, using as few and easy words as was possible, and it was all she could understand as well. But they could talk to one another on their own, Calla being able to piece sounds together to understand what he'd said if she didn't know the word he used. But out of all she had learned, there was no word for love – they were orcs, love was unknown to them; and so he used her word, or simply placed his hand over his heart staring into her eyes. She knew both, and it pleased her to no end to hear him say the word and see its truth in his eyes; when they were out of the tent and with the others he patted his chest to tell her and she would smile before doing the same.

Winter was around the bend when they made for the woods, taking them three days to arrive. Daisy had grown larger than the other orcs, now older than a year, and Calla being much smaller and lighter than the orcs had ridden her at Azog's side as they traveled. On the nights they slept under the stars Azog had tried laying with her, having no care for the other's seeing them, but she said no. **"We can not,"** she told him pushing his hand away with a small smile.

"**Why not?" **he asked her, pulling her to him. **"I know you want to." **

She gave a short laugh shaking her head. **"Yes but,"** she stopped not knowing how to say it was private between only the two of them, and so she pointed first to him and then to herself. **"You and me."**

He sighed grievously, knowing she would not let him take her, and he settled for her laying at his side; at least until Daisy squirmed her way between them and slept curled against Calla with her back to Azog.

On the second day a scout spotted a small pack of rangers, and with a vicious cold blooded growl Azog gave the order to prepare to attack. **"Go with the pups, Yazneg and a few others will join you," **he told her before riding out with the others.

Daisy had whined watching him leave, and Calla found that she felt the same; remembering the scars he had received the last they encountered rangers. **"Come, before the rangers start to move,"** Yazneg told her, and she turned from Azog's pale shrinking form and ran along the others as they headed for the Ettenmoors. She did not sleep that night, lying under the stars wondering when the others would return and if Azog would be wounded when he did. She tossed and turned and stared at the stars, willing the time to pass and for Azog to return to her so she would not feel so worried it made her sick. Dawn broke and they ran the few hours to the woods before they settled and made their camp, Yazneg and another making Azog and Calla's tent before leaving her to do something else. With nothing of her own to do, the orcs telling her she did not have to help them, she laid against Daisy waiting for him come back, and she was on her feet in an instant when she heard them.

Azog got down from his warg and stabbed the large stick into the ground before her, bearing on it the head of one of the rangers he'd killed. She stared at it befuddled a moment before looking to him; it was what Daisy did, she killed an animal and many times she brought it to Calla as a gift; so Calla looked upon the head as nothing more than Azog showing his love to her, for that was exactly what he was doing.

He stared hard at her, wondering her reaction and if she would be pleased. **"Are you hurt?"** is what she asked him, looking at him with eyes free of horror and disgust, eyes that shone with worry and desire at seeing him.

"**No,"** he answered shortly, seeing the relief flood through her as the corners of her mouth lifted. In place of worry lust appeared, for it had been several nights since they had lain together. With her arms around his shoulder, his arm around her bottom, their foreheads resting together as though for a kiss, he carried her to the tent and he fucked her, hard, until they were both nearly screaming.

It often took time for her to become aroused enough to enjoy his swollen manhood inside her, for he was larger than she; but he had come to know how to arouse her, how to make her dripping with need for him so that he slipped inside her with ease and pleased her. His hands on her breasts excited her, squeezing and pinching; but he loved nothing more than the taste of them, and she ignited at the feel of his tongue burning and swirling against her nipples. He never tasted anything so sweet as her, her breasts, her skin, her womanhood. In minutes he could have her writing on the ground, holding her hips still as he tortured her slowly. He had discovered how greatly his mouth pleased her by luck; he had pressed his own kisses upon her body and had heard her gasp when he kissed her there, and then he never stopped. He left her crying out, vulnerable, completely submissive to what he wanted – and he loved greatly to have that control over her, to know the reason she shuddered in delight was because of him. When he had the patience he would torment her for a long while, bringing her to the edge only to stop, and then to resume only to stop again before she came; leaving her moaning and begging him to take her. **"Please,"** she'd cry whining, feeling her finish ebbing away another time. **"Please Azog."** He would look up at her, seeing the pure need in her eyes as she panted, pleading with him.

"**What do you want?"** he'd ask her, sliding up her body to hover over her, feeling her hips raising to seek him out.

She'd stare up at him with burning eyes, desire scorching them both. **"I want you to fuck me."** Her voice, low and gravelly, had him thrusting hard inside her and sending her over the edge in seconds; and then he'd bring to another, and sometimes another.

Most often he did not have the patience for this, he barely had the will to bring her to a release with his mouth before his stiffness became too painful and he would take her.

This was their winter, him leaving often with others to raid a village and get supplies, and him returning with a gift for her; sometimes a dress, or a new coat, or a new hair clip, once a new pair of boots; and most often a speared head, which not only showed his love to her, but to the others as well. He gifted her with his kill, baring his strength in battle to her. And every time he'd take her to the tent, desire at its strongest on those days, and their moans and cries were loud and rough and frequent.

When the days began to grow warmer they packed their camp and left the Ettenmoors to the river by the Mountains once more, where a scout may spot the travelers that passed anywhere near and they could reap their rewards. It was in the first days of spring, their new camp made, starting her second year with Azog, Calla fell ill.

* * *

_song is Big Parade by The Lumineers._


	15. is the love you gave away

_XV. Well I don't know if I'm ready/__To be the man I have to be/__I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side/__We stand in awe, we've created life_

Azog stood behind her with a hand on her back as she vomited for the third time that day, his concerns growing rapidly the more days passed and she continued to be sick. She could not eat anything, she couldn't bear the sight or smell of food, and she had no energy to speak to of; and then she would feel alright again, able to eat little nibbles, though she was still weary. He stayed by her side, laying next to her when she rested and sitting with her when she left the tent for air; he feared he'd leave her and she'd be dead when he returned. Illness was not common among orcs, at least not what was plaguing her.

Calla knew. Many women in her village had gone through a spell of sickness when with child, and it had been some time since last she bled; all of these, plus the tender aching in her breasts, were the signs she had been refusing to admit. But with another month, the sickness lessening, her breasts growing and aching more, and her stomach just starting to swell, she could ignore it no longer. And with knowing, so must she tell Azog; the problem was she did not know how he would react, if he would be pleased, or if he would hate her. But the biggest problem, was she did not know the words to tell him she was carrying his young; which left her with Yazneg.

"**I have to tell him something,"** she said when she found him, standing at his side tiredly and speaking softly.

"**That you are no longer ill?"** he asked her. **"You eat more, you look better." **

Calla looked to the ground. **"I suppose," **she said so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"**You know what made you ill?"** he asked, his eyes narrowed as he stared hard at her, seeing on her face that something troubled her greatly; her face was so easy read, and it made pleasing her easy for she was quick to smile when she was happy – and the orcs enjoyed making her happy. She was not happy now.

She nodded, still staring at the ground unable to look at him. "I am pregnant," she told him in the tongue of man, the first she had spoken it in almost a year.

It took a moment for Yazneg to understand, not thinking he heard her clearly until he realized from her worried face that he had. "What is it you want me to do?" he asked her, knowing if Azog were to take the news badly then it would him who the pale orc turned on.

For the first time since she came to his side she turned her eyes to his. "I need to know how to tell him."

…

Azog returned to the tent that night, Calla having forced him to go see to what he needed to now that she felt well again. And he almost smiled when he saw her, a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth; all she thought he would be able to manage of a smile.

She smiled up at him, her lips falling into a straight line quickly. **"How was your day?"** she asked him, feigning nonchalant happiness.

"**Good,"** he answered shortly laying next to her, rolling so he was atop her.

"**No,"** she said pulling his hand away from her dress, **"I don't want to tonight."**

He stared down hard at her. **"It has been months, when can I have you again?"** he asked roughly, though his eyes were pleading.

She looked up at him helpless, words trying to form on her lips but unable to. **"I still do not think I am well enough,"** she told him meekly, and with a sigh he rolled off of her and onto his side turned away from her. She looked at his back wishing he would let her lie on his chest, but he did not offer nor did he want her to in that moment.

She stood at Yazneg's side the next day, fiddling with her fingers as she watched Daisy fighting with a male who wished to mate her, and Daisy was having none of it.

"You did not tell him," Yazneg said, the easiest way for Azog not be to told yet was for them to speak in a tongue no one else understood.

She could hold his eyes not even a second. "I tried to," she defended herself pitifully. "He was upset because I would not lie with him."

"You are his mate," Yazneg told her, "you are expected to lie with him as he wishes."

"Well I can't at the moment," she said frustrated, worrying for not only Azog's reaction but what it would mean for her, and then for the child she hadn't even wanted; and even if ridding herself of it was an option, she wouldn't have taken it. But it did nothing for her worry which made her almost as sick as before.

Yazneg looked at her with only the slightest bit of pity. "Then tell him why," he offered as though it were obvious.

"But what if he does not want a child?" she asked him, looking at him with wide eyes that he could not refuse.

"He doesn't want one," Yazneg told her brutally. "You can't hide it much longer, I can see your stomach already."

Calla placed a hand on her belly and looked down, seeing it had grown and was now almost noticeably bigger; though it only looked as though she were eating too much. "But what if,"

"You will tell him," Yazneg said firmly silencing her. "Or I will. Who do you think he would react to better?" he asked her mercilessly.

"I don't know," she told him, and there lay her fear.

She did not tell him that night, she had tried and the words had stuck on her tongue unable to come loose. Azog had waited as patiently as he could before he growled and rolled away from her, finding her difficult in that moment. It was a few days of this before he could take it no longer.

"**What?"** he demanded at seeing her about to say something but hesitating. She looked up at him with large eyes worried and tired, but her lips were sealed. **"What is it?"**

"**I, I am, you will," **she stumbled over what she wanted to say, what she could say. And then she blurted it out. "I am pregnant."

Azog looked at her curiously and then he rolled his eyes. **"So I can understand."**

She sighed heavily trying to work up the courage once more, only to say it in her tongue again.

"**Why can you not tell me?"** Azog questioned frustrated, wishing she would just speak to him. **"Are you able to answer that?"**

She looked at him with pursed lips, unhappy with his tone but not commenting on it. **"I am afraid you will not want me anymore," **she told him, it being easier to tell him why she was worried than the cause of her troubles.

He looked at her incredulous, wondering how she could possibly believe he would ever not want her. **"Is it because you have gotten fatter?"** he asked making her looked at him shocked.

"**I am not-"** she stopped herself, taking a breath and releasing her feelings of offense. **"I am not fat,"** she said calmer as she looked at him.

He stared at her waiting for her to speak, to tell him what it was. Until he realized it; she was not fat, though her stomach was now larger, her breasts were too and it made her wince when he touched them; she had also been acting strange, she was herself one minute and then the next she'd almost start crying.

She watched him, seeing the recognition and then the shock on his face; and she watched as his breathing quickened, and then as he turned on his heel and nearly lept out of the tent.

He had needed air, air that she was not breathing so he could think. He did not want a child, he had never given any thought to one; but faced with it now, he didn't want it. And yet she was pregnant, he had no choice. He may have gotten angry, been furious that this had happened and hurt her; but he was not the same orc he'd been when he first saw her as he leaned against a tree. He could nothing but remember her words; she was afraid he wouldn't want her. She was wrong, he wanted her always with him, her small hands and her beautiful face and her sweet smile; her body, her pleasure, his own pleasure he found in her. He wanted it all.

An hour he had left her, and he returned to see her covering her face with her hands as she cried. He had not behaved as he should have, she had been afraid he'd leave her, she was a woman with child and he had left without a word. Guilt spread through him as he listened to her small gasps for air, and he was struck with how much cared for her. Though he did not want this, though this was something he had never wanted and was unhappy to be having; he gathered her in his arms and held her until her tears ceased. And even then he still held her, feeling her still small stomach firm against him and wondered what it was he was supposed to do now.

* * *

_song is With Arms Wide Open by Creed._

_So next chapter will be her and him through her pregnancy, which will have some kinda cute moments. My only problem is that I know nothing about orc babies and orc children; I can't picture a little orc running around a camp. And yet I don't know how other way they'd grow, and I know they're not born full grown. Or if orc babies are taken and then raised by someone else to be killers. I really don't know. So I'm wondering if you guys have any ideas._


	16. I couldn't sleep last night

_Chichi: thanks for reviewing. The thing about female orcs is Tolkien never mentioned them, ever. So there's no proof that there ever were any, though I don't see how that could be possible cause they had to reproduce somehow and I doubt all their offspring came from human women - but you never know. However, there are two things to orcs - they are either tortured elves that were corrupted until they turned into orcs, or Melkor tried to make a copy of elves and it resulted in orcs. Either way, it seems like they reproduce sexually. And then there's the orcs in LOTR, which are Uruk-hai and were specially bred orcs with humans to make their offspring as big and powerful and awful as they were. But no mention of lady orcs anywhere, so I honestly don't know. I'm not saying there definitely aren't any, but I'm not putting female orcs in this story. _

* * *

_XVI. and he says I'm in love, I'm in with a woman/ yeah this is my confession_

He apologized when dawn broke, though it was an indiscernible mumble as he looked at the ground. She understood all the same and she looked up at him with a small smile, easing him of his discomfort. **"What will we do now?"** she asked him softly.

With a sigh he met her gaze. **"You will have my son," **he told her.

Her brows rose. **"You are so sure it is a son?"** she asked with a smile, to which he nodded. She loosed her own sigh. **"Then I shall have your son."**

Placing a hand under her chin he lowered his face to hers. **"Our son, and he will the fiercest orc this world has seen."** Her smile spread and grew so lovely his dark twisted heart for a moment knew light, and he pressed his mouth to her forehead before leaving her.

She laid back and held her hands on her stomach, wondering what he would look like. Azog was not handsome by any means, but after seeing his face for two years she found there was a beauty to him; a dark and terrible beauty etched in each scar on his pale skin. The others orcs were not so lucky, for lumps and growths marred their features, and she wondered if perhaps he would look more like them. Her thoughts were interrupted by a wet nose and a gentle tongue and she smiled before wrapping her arms around Daisy; even though she were older now, to the age where male wargs wished to mate her, she was still the warg pup Calla had loved a few years before.

"**Oh Daisy,"** Calla said softly when she felt the wet fur around the back of her neck. Daisy whined her unhappiness as she nestled closer, pressing her face into Calla's breasts; Calla knew a male had gotten Daisy around the back of the neck and mounted her – knowing exactly which one it was – something her warg was not pleased to have happened. **"It's okay,"** she cooed as she continued stroking her fur, hearing her whine again.

Azog returned after supper to find Calla braiding her hair and Daisy with her head on her lap. **"Are you alright?"** he asked wondering why Daisy had come to her.

Calla looked up at him with almost stern eyes. **"I am,"** she said emphasizing the I. **"Daisy does not like your warg."**

He chucked as he laid beside where she sat, having seen his dark warg fucking the smaller white one. **"He likes her,"** he said looking at the warg, who was staring at him pitifully.

With hard eyes and furrowed brows she stared at him, making him laugh amused. She pushed his hand away when he reached for her hair, and she pushed him away again and lost hold of her braid making it fall apart. Azog smiled pleased, for as much as she liked it up and out of the way he liked it down so he could trace her curls. She tilted her head toward him when she felt his hand in her hair, his fingers entwined in the strands; he tugged gently and she laid down on his chest, his arm around her back and Daisy still curled against her side.

"**Do you really think I am fat?"** she asked, his words from last night having been bothering her since.

Azog lay still on his back, his hand heavy around her. He was not sure what to say, what words would not make her cry as she seemed prone to do as of late. He had been silent too long and she sat up with wide eyes looking down at him. Not knowing any words for her or what to say he placed his hand between her breasts and said, "love." He saw a smile twitch on her mouth before she leaned forward and kissed his lips gently and laid back down satisfied, and he was left breathless from how close he'd come to inducing tears. And he laid with her against him wondering how he would survive if it got worse.

…

Her moods eventually leveled and she was his Calla again, only her stomach had grown larger and more than just her breasts ached. He had returned to the tent one night to find her completely bare, seeing her very round breasts with their rosy nipples and her lovely smooth legs and more importantly what lay between them, it was a feast for his eyes for he had not lain with her in months and his desire was becoming unbearable. He spread her legs and settled between them before pressing fully against her, leaning forward as he rubbed against her swelling womanhood. It was not until he heard her soft moans, and then the tightening of her legs around him, that he realized her desire had been growing as well.

"**Where is your dress?"** he asked after he'd finished, turned on his side to hold her as she lay on her back.

"**It does not fit," **she mumbled, feeling very large though she would grow much more in the next two months.

He smiled into her hair. **"I will get you a new one,"** he told her, and they would be leaving soon for they needed to begin gathering supplies for winter which drew closer every week. He was more gentle with her now than he had ever been, than he ever would be again, but only because she needed it; she was with child and it was taking a toll on her, taxing her energy making her large and cry more often than she liked. And so he was gentle, almost even kind, because he loved her and he loathed it when she cried; but only behind the tent, for she rarely left it now that her ankles were swollen and her shoes did not fit, where no other eyes but hers to see his tenderness.

It was the day after the next that a band of them left to raid the villages nearby, or the camps of travelers. Azog had returned with a new dress that fit her rounded belly more, as well as a head. Every time he left he brought her one back, showing her not only his strength and skill but also his love, and eventually it pleased her to see them. And she would look up at him with a smile and he'd touch her cheek; and after they retreated to the tent an orc would feed the head to the wargs. Azog's warg most often got the head, for even to wargs he was the leader's mount and therefore the greatest. And he often shared it with Daisy, who he mated with frequently; and she had eventually stopped resisting, laying on her belly and letting him mount her, and she even started to enjoy it. And within months after the dark warg had first shut his jaws on the scruff of her neck, she began to grow larger with a litter.

One night Calla had gasped and grabbed her stomach, alarming both Azog and Daisy and they looked to her in fear. Her brows had furrowed and then she smiled, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. There was a small thump he felt on his fingertips, and it took him a moment to realize it was his son. It amazed him that an orc was growing in her belly, and he looked down at her with surprised eyes to see her smiling with tears in her eyes. She was growing to care greatly for the babe, as a woman naturally did when they were with child, for they saw their babes as a part of them; as an orc, Azog did not see the little orc as a part of him, but as what he would grow to be, he imagined the fierce warrior he would be, the many people he would kill with nothing more than his mighty hands. They eventually laid back and settled once more, both their dreams of their son; one of love and care, the other of blood and destruction.

She needed a new dress again after winter began, her stomach even larger and her breasts swollen with the milk she would soon have. She barely left the tent at all anymore, not even for the cold clean air she loved so much to breathe; Calla had had to ride Azog's warg, for she was heavy and he did not want her on another dog since Daisy was pregnant with a litter; Daisy had glared threatening at the dark warg when he looked at Calla, and he quickly learned the woman was not to be hurt, and so he let her ride him even when Azog did not. It had been a miserable few days for her as they traveled back to the Ettenmoors for winter, and she was relieved when it finished.

Azog would return to her at night, only laying next to her now that she was so large; and he knew, very clearly, that she would give birth soon and it worried him for no orc knew how to help her. And so he left her, taking with him a small band of orcs in search of someone who could.

"**When will you return?"** she asked him when he came to bid her goodbye, for even she knew it was coming closer to the day.

"**A few days at most,"** he answered, not wishing to leave her in case the pains started sooner; but she had given him a request, one only he trusted himself to enforce; she did not want anyone hurt, not for her. He was to find a woman and bring her here, treat her kindly and keep their hands off her, and she would leave still unharmed after their son was born. He had not been pleased, had even refused at first, but with angry blue eyes she stared him down – her lips which he enjoyed so greatly pressed in a thin line – and he had relented.

And now he rode southwest along the river, hoping to come across a group traveling trying to beat the worst of the winter still to come. As luck would have it they did find a small, well armed party, that was traveling home after visiting their kin; and by chance, there was a female. Azog had gave his orcs the order they would kill no one, on word from Calla – to which they had agreed and now stood waiting for Azog's word.

So an orc crept silently toward them, it being the earliest hours of morning and the watchman's back to them; and he had hit what happened to be a dwarf over the head with the handle of his weapon so he would not wake the others, and then he'd wrapped a hand around the female's mouth and pulled her after him. It was even more luck that the orc had grabbed the female, having thought he saw the shape of breasts; for when they saw her face with its beard she looked a man.

She was terrified and shaking, trying to scream as the orc carried her feet above the ground with a hand still over her mouth. The orc dropped her roughly, a league away from her camp, and before she could scream a large pale orc slapped her hard across the face stunning her.

"Have you aided a woman birth a child?" an orc roughly demanded, stooping low and putting his horrid face in hers.

She did no more than stare at him with wide eyes, her chest heaving as she fought a scream; knowing it would mean her death. She whimpered when he grabbed her hair and pulled on it so hard she could feel the roots holding each strand in her skin.

"Answer me," the orc seethed.

"Yes," she sobbed, hearing the revolting orc speaking with the pale one. Her heart turned to ice when he looked at her, his eyes dark and murderous in the moonlight as he looked down at her. Before she could scream the hand was back over her mouth and she was pulled onto a warg, where they raced toward a woman who had just felt the first twinges of the beginning of labor.

* * *

_song is Big Parade by the Lumineers - and yes I used this song before, but I thought this chapter had a more lighter feel to it and it's an amazing song with a great beat; and Azog really did show he loves her here._


	17. cause I tried to forget you

_XVII. Show me sunset and I won't forget/That I am one of two planets dancing/I am part of two planets dancing/.../__And life is so much dark and light/When day cannot exist without a night/And you are not separate from me/I am a heart that's full of life_

On an ill feeling Azog urged them faster, grabbing the she-dwarf and racing the many leagues back to their camp; he did not let his warg rest, not during that day and not during the night. In the earliest hours of dawn he finally returned to camp, and even before he lept off his warg he heard Calla scream.

The dwarf woman, who had been weeping off and on since she'd been taken, was surprised at the scream for it was not the sound of an orc. She knew she had been taken to help someone give birth, only she had expected an orc – wondering if there were any female orcs, and if they'd be as hideous as their men – an orc was not the sight she was met with when the pale orc shoved her into the tent; instead she met with a very pretty young woman who was obviously in a great deal of pain.

Azog could smell the blood, smell Calla's blood, as she lay crying and he looked to the orc he left her with.

"**She complained this morning of feeling strange, it wasn't until near supper we realized it was the pains. She's been screaming all night,"** the orc told Azog, not knowing what to do for her.

Azog knelt at her side and looked down at her, seeing the tears falling freely into her hair as she stared up at him relieved he had returned. He turned to Yazneg when she cried out again. **"Tell the dwarf to do something,"** he ordered harshly, honestly hating the child for paining Calla so greatly, before turning back to her.

"Help her," Yazneg told the dwarf woman.

She looked at the orc incredulously before he grabbed his dagger and held it to her throat, and then she hastily moved between the young woman's legs. The problem was clear immediately, the walls of the her womanhood had stretched to push the baby out only the head was larger than a normal babe's and her walls could not stretch anymore without tearing. _The poor thing,_ she thought looking up at the girl, seeing the pale orc with a large hand on her head as she looked up at him, _what horrors have been dealt her and will continue to be given._ "This will hurt you greatly," she warned her.

Calla looked up at the dwarf, her entirely body engulfed in the flames that came from her womb. She nodded before taking a breath and bracing herself, but she could never have prepared to feel as though she were literally torn apart. Azog was forced to listen to her screams, the smell of blood stronger in his nose, as the orc was born. Even after the dwarf had the orc in her arms Calla continued to cry, the pain lingering and throbbing in her very soul; and she wished for death in that moment, to come and bring her peace so as not to hurt like this any longer. Death did not come, nor did the blackness of unconsciousness – she lay unable to move as pain coursed through ever fiber of her being, feeling the blood leaking from her and praying her life would drain with it. And so she stayed, tears unceasing as wave after wave of agony drowned her; the only thing keeping her afloat on the sea of torment was a large pale hand stroking her hair.

"**Please,"** she begged looking up at him, shocking the dwarf with her use of the orc's dark tongue.

Azog nodded understanding before ordering Yazneg, and moments later he returned with a cup filled with a dark liquid that Azog poured into her mouth; and in seconds she was finally given peace.

…

It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen; skin wrinkled from just being born, leathery skin a sickly pale color, eyes as pale and unnerving as its father's, its nose flattened like an animal, its mouth deformed as though it were a beast with a muzzle. She could not believe that this creature had been inside the pretty woman, it now being obvious its father was the pale orc but even he did not look so awful as this. The little orc could barely fit in her arms, looking more like a small toddler than a baby; she had literally had to get her hands inside her womanhood to pull the baby out, having to cut her to do it.

She nearly shrunk back when she looked at the pale orc to see him glaring at her dangerously.

"**How badly did she hurt her?" **Azog asked Yazneg, having been watching the dwarf as she looked at his son in horror and disgust.

Yazneg took his own dark eyes from the dwarf. **"She took a knife to her," **he answered, having wished to snap the dwarf's neck the moment she asked for his dagger.

With a growl Azog advanced on her, shoving her aside and sending her crashing into Yazneg, before he looked to see what she had done to Calla. He did not care that the dwarf had been holding his son, he did not care that this may have been the only way for his son to have been born without dying first – he did not care – all he cared about was Calla, her screams and her tears and her pleads caused by the orc. He got to his feet. **"Do not let her die,"** he ordered, his hand wrapped tight around Yazneg's throat squeezing before he released him; the threat that if she was not still alive when he returned very clear. Yazneg wondered where Azog would stop if she did die, would killing him be enough, or would he tear them all apart – starting first with his son.

Azog ran to his warg and spurred him quickly away from the camp, heading toward where he first met her. It took him a day to reach her desolated village, having not stopped even a moment to rest. And he lept from the warg, who laid down heaving, and made for the trees; he searched for the leaves, not knowing where she had found them, and he stumbled upon only a small patch of them by sheer goodwill. In fear of Azog's mood the weary warg began the long run back to the tent, when they were a league away his heart gave out and he fell to the ground dead and unmoving. Azog roared in fury before getting to his feet and running toward the camp, being met by an orc who'd seen him, and he threw the orc to the ground and kicked the warg into motion.

…

Calla had woken to Azog being gone, her body aching in a dull coldness, and the babe screaming for food. She leaned against Daisy's back, who hadn't left her side since she first felt strange, and held the orc as the dwarf had told her and let it suckle her breasts. "What is your name?" Calla had asked her when he first fed.

"I am Nali," she answered, watching the longer the girl held the orc the more tired she became, until finally she herself had to hold the orc to her breast.

"What is your name?"

The young woman looked at her with weary blue eyes and a pale face, worrying Nali that she would not live many days longer. "Calla, my mother's favorite flower," she answered, and even exhausted her voice was still sweet and kind.

Nali looked up warily when the orc that spoke the common tongue returned to the tent, trying to get Calla to eat only for her to turn away.

"They will not hurt you," Calla told her.

She looked at the girl in disbelief. "They are orcs, you more than any should know how they will hurt me," she said taking the little orc and laying it down on Calla's lap.

Calla placed her small hand on his head, feeling his breaths warm against her skin as he fell asleep. "I bade them not even to touch you, no harm will come to you."

Nali looked at her, hearing the finality and certainty in her voice. "The pale orc," she said softly, "is he the leader."

Calla took a deep breath, finding that her eyes had fallen closed. "I supposed you could consider him their king," she answered.

It was then Nali understood, in that manner Calla was their queen therefore the orcs abided her word; at least, as much as she could understood for these were things she did not know about orcs – they did not seem so uncivilized, just cruel. "My brother is a king," she told Calla, who looked at her in surprise. "Well, my husband's brother is. He is the king of Durin's folk."

Calla smiled lazily. "Do you have children?"

"Oh yes, a son, Farin. He has children of his own, Fundin and Groin," Nali answered, taking a liking to the kind girl – thinking it horrid the sorrows that had befallen her and wishing there were something she could do help her. Calla was smiling no longer, instead she was looking down at the sleeping the little orc on her lap who Daisy sniffed curiously.

"Do you love your son?" she asked softly.

Nali looked at her. "Of course, Farin is my greatest joy as are his children."

Calla looked up at her, her eyes big and filling with tears. "Does it make me a bad person that I do not love mine?" she asked, her voice strained with her tears.

"Oh, no of course not," Nali soothed placing a hand on her shoulder gently. "Shh, it's okay, you'll hurt herself." She did not wish for Calla to bleed through the rags, for the bleeding had lessened until it had almost stopped. "You just need time, when you don't hurt so much."

Calla nodded as she sniffed, trying to stop crying for it hurt her. It was then, seeing the young woman crying over her monster of a baby, that Nali swore to herself she would save her; in some way, at some time, she would save her from this.

Two days Azog had been gone, and on the day he returned Calla lay so still they all feared she would die very soon; her skin pale, her breathing heavy. Nali did not know what to do with the leaves the pale orc handed her.

"You chew them," Yazneg translated, not even he knew what they were. "And then you put it on the wound."

Nali did as she was told, hearing Calla gasp and whimper when she placed the chewed leaves. It was three days, after Calla regained a little of her strength that new leaves were chewed and placed on her, and then a day after the wound was no more than a small scar just barely visible if looking directly at her womanhood. It was not until Calla sat up on her own, holding the orc in her arms as he fed – his appetite large and her milk plentiful – when she began eating, when she began to love her son, when she first stood on shaky legs, did Nali begin to grow worried. She was of no use any longer, for now Calla had to nurse her son and eat her own food and she would be well and good. And now Nali sat nervously waiting for the orc to come kill her, no longer believing in Calla's certainty they would not kill her simply because she said so.

"**You should take her back,"** Calla said, holding her son in the crook of her arm as he suckled a nipple, and with her other hand she pet Daisy who was getting closer to her own birthing.

Azog gave a grumble before casting the dwarf a dark look, wishing to kill her and be done with it. He left Calla a moment later, pressing his mouth to her forehead before standing. Minutes later he had returned, and Calla looked up at surprise at seeing the orc Azog had brought; knowing he was the cruelest. And it was proven when he grabbed Nali by the hair and yanked her out of the tent making her cry out in pain and fear. Azog looked down at Calla waiting, wondering what she would do to ensure the dwarf would live.

She laid her son against Daisy before righting her dress and brushing past him as she left the tent. **"Take her to the main road, near a village, and leave her. You will not harm her in away way, whether to kill or rape,"** Calla told him sternly, and he turned to her with daring eyes.

"**But of course,"** he said mockingly giving a small bow.

Calla's eyes hardened and her mouth set in a firm line. **"Lay a hand on her and die,"** she warned lowly, feeling the eyes of all the orcs on them but her will did not flee her; instead, it strengthened her, for she had come to like the dwarf who had helped and befriended her.

The orc sneered, tightening his fist in the dwarf's hair making her whimper as several strands tore loose. **"Will you kill me?" **he asked, though his smile wilted at the sight of Azog standing behind her. But in the end it was the sweet smile on Calla's own lips that made him falter.

"**No,"** she said calmly, her voice still kind though her eyes were anything but. **"I will have you bound, hands and feet, and whipped until you scream every day for years. You will be fed to ensure you live as long as I wish for you to, and I will refuse every orc in this pack from raping their women until their desires have grown so large they will take turns settling for fucking you. I will have you begging me to kill you, and only when my son is grown will I finally show you mercy. And he will tear your heart out so quickly you will see him holding it in his hand before you are dead." **Not a single noise save the wind was heard throughout the camp, her voice had turned dark and risen until she was yelling powerfully; and she stood staring the orc down breathing deeply.

The dwarf had not known a single word Calla had said, but she knew the woman spoke to keep her from getting hurt; and seeing her face darkened with rage, hearing her once sweet voice low and dangerous, Nali could see why the orcs listened to her – she was their queen. And it was proven moments later when the first orc, who was Yazneg, got down on one knee and bowed his head, and then as all the other orcs followed suit even the one holding her hair. They were giving her, and Azog, the greatest act of respect saved for only the highest of kings of all of Middle Earth – an act that many no longer performed, and yet the orcs were bowing and it baffled her

Calla looked up at Azog questioningly though he did no more than smile. When they got their feet they were looking at her with different eyes, she was not just a sweet woman, she was their leader's mate and the mother of his sire; she had a power they hadn't realized, until that moment.

Nali looked back to Calla when the orc pulled her in front of him on his warg, seeing her standing small and proud beside her pale orc as she watched them disappear. The orc did not dare defy her, not any longer for her words had frightened him, and in two days he dropped the dwarf near a village before leaving her. She did not watch the orc go, she ran as quickly as her short legs could to the village, sucking in the air of freedom and life. Within days word was sent to her husband who she had been traveling with, who was in a nearby village searching for his wife, and they were reunited.

"How is this possible?" Borin said as he clung to her, thinking he would never again look upon her face.

Nali looked at him. "There was a woman with a pack of orcs, they took me to help her give birth."

"Orcs," he moaned. "How have they hurt you?" he asked, for orcs pillaged and raped and killed; it was a miracle his wife was alive, one he would always be grateful to.

"They did not," she told him, tears pouring out of her eyes. "The woman, Calla, oh she was barely even twenty. She forbade them from hurting me, she even stood down the orc who brought me back. We have to help her."

"And we will," he swore, for he was now indebted to the woman for keeping his wife safe. "We will return to our home and tell my brother, and gather an army to save her." And that was exactly what they did.

* * *

_The lyrics are two parts of the song Two Planets by Bat For Lashes - and if you look closely, the way I used it is about her son and how he's half of her._

_A little fun fact about who I made Nali: her husband is Borin, and his son Farin is the father of Fundin (father of Balin and Dwalin) and Groin (father of Oin and Gloin); and he is the brother of Nain II, who is the grandfather of Thror. However, where I'm placing the time of the story, it will be Nain's son Dain who goes after the orcs. Also, that will be a few years from now, so it won't be happening too soon. Just as a little factoid, if all that made any sense._


	18. in the suffocated air

_Guest: thank you, I'm so glad you're liking it. _

_PS: Well I was very happy to see a review from you, and I'm so glad you didn't just bail on the story; a lot of other readers would have after missing a few chapters. _

* * *

_XVIII. I'll walk in the rain by your side/I'll cling to the warmth of your tiny hand/I'll do anything to help you understand/I'll love you more than anybody can./And the wind will whisper your name to me/Little birds will sing along in time/The leaves will bow down when you walk by/And morning bells will chime. _

Her little orc was sleeping against Daisy, his hand holding tight to her fur as his grotesque mouth pursed and sucked as he dreamt. When Azog returned to the tent, several minutes after she had, he found her laying against Daisy as she stared at their son. Even with her well, no threat of death near, he could not find it in him to look kindly upon the orc he had made; perhaps if the times were dark, the threat of falling in battle etched in the rising of each sun, he might have wanted a sire; as it was, he did not want it.

He laid down beside her, her back to him, and he wished to lie with her; listening as he beheld her surprising strength, her cruel words growling from her lips – he had never wanted her as much as he had then. But it would be many weeks before he could again, a thought that saddened and frustrated him for it had been months since he'd had her as it was. With a sigh he held himself up on his elbow and leaned over her to look at their babe.

"**He is so ugly,"** she said softly and he chuckled.

"**It will be worse when he is older,"** he told her amused, for she was right; to the eyes of a human he was almost vile, even to Azog he was far from beauty. Though in all fairness, he would never find another thing beautiful save Calla, she had tainted him, ruined his cruelty. And he loved her, for what all he knew the word love meant; and what all his twisted black heart would allow.

He laid on his back when she turned to him and he held her against his chest. **"We should name him,"** Calla said softly, wishing to have something to call him by.

It was upon seeing her eyes looking at him expectantly that he realized it would be him to think of a name. And so he thought, long and hard, about what he wished his son's name to be. **"Bolg,"** he said at last.

Calla looked at him with a small smile. **"What does that mean?"** she asked.

He shrugged before answering. **"Strength,"** he answered. **"Or a form of the word." **

Her smile widened slightly before she laid back on his chest, breathing deeply as she settled for sleep. **"It is a good name,"** she told him as she yawned, before drifting toward slumber.

…

It was not when Bolg woke hungry in the night that stirred Azog, it was not the little cries for his mother's milk, it was the feeling of Calla leaving his arms that always woke him. And so most nights Azog sat with her against his chest as she nursed. It was honestly the most boring thing he'd ever had to sit through, unable to do anything but speak and at such an early hour neither one of them wished to think of something to say. She would sit with her entire chest exposed, having pulled the sleeves off her shoulders so it gathered on her lap, Bolg suckling one breast and Azog had at first teased the other; only it did nothing but draw milk for her, it seemed her desire had all but vanished.

And the weight she had gained quickly disappeared as well, within three months she was smaller even than when he had first gotten her with child. She was not eating much, and added with Bolg having a never ending appetite, he seemed to be sucking the life out of her. Azog forced her to eat, and when he was with a small party raiding a village Yazneg forced her. But even then she didn't eat it all, she could not find her hunger.

Her time was devoured by Bolg, and Daisy for only two months after Bolg was born she had her pups. And Daisy laid in the corner of the tent as the pups either fed or crawled on shaky legs everywhere. Bolg loved them, he squealed and laughed like a normal baby when he felt their wet noses on his face, or when Daisy licked him having decided she liked him. And Calla sat with Daisy's head in her lap and Bolg laying by her hip, happy and content.

As bland as Azog found Bolg feeding, she treasured it. He demanded milk at least every two hours, including through the night keeping her from sleeping, and she would sit with him cradled to her chest where he would wrap his little muzzle-lips around her nipple and suck. He laid happily in her arms, a small hand resting on her breast, and he would let out a burb big enough to frighten him and then make him giggle before he would suckle the other. She was as content as he to let him feed, tracing his chubby pale cheeks with her fingers making him smile with her nipple in his mouth, milk running down his face. As ugly and hungry as he was, she loved him. For other than whining for milk he hardly fussed at all, either sleeping or now sitting up happily as she sat with him. He never left her side, she carried him on her hip when she walked around the camp, or he was beside her as she sat in the tent.

As happy and content as Calla was Azog was displeased. He wished to lay with her, but she had no desire he could see, he wished for a full night's rest when Bolg did not demand to be fed, he wished for life as he'd had it before Bolg had been born; and his mood was so foul his orcs tiptoed around him in fear. He was horrid company, yelling for what he wanted and striking whoever was nearest when it did not happen fast enough. And when he and his orcs raided a village he'd fuck the first woman he'd see, laughing darkly at her cries and screams as he raped her mercilessly; and then he killed her. It was never until he returned to the tent, seeing Calla staring in awe at their son, looking at her beautiful face as she smiled up at him and asked him how his night was, that he drowned in shame. The fires of self loathing licked at his soul and he would tell her it had been well, lying by not telling he had been with another, and then he would lay restless all night as he held her to his chest. Being forced to bear witness to how much she loved him, by how much she trusted him to love her; though he did not know what love meant, but it was on those nights he understood that love meant he could not lie with anyone other than her. And so he had stopped raping the women in villages or camps, and he let his desire grow and fester until his mood was so dark he killed any orc who dared displeased him.

…

It was six months after Bolg was born that he cut his teeth and first bit her nipple, and it was barely even a day before Calla couldn't stand it any longer and she was left not knowing what to do to feed him. Azog had been waiting for this, for Bolg to not feed from her breasts; he had already staid with her far longer than any of other orc did with their mothers.

"**You cannot take him, what will he eat?" **she asked him almost near hysterics at the thought of leaving her son in the hands of another.

Azog placed a hand under her chin to make her look at him. **"You knew this was coming. He is starting to grow, he is already moving on his knees. Soon he will start to walk and then we will train him. You cannot coddle him, Calla,"** Azog told her sternly, though looking in her tear filled blue eyes he wished only to relent and let her keep Bolg at her side. But he could not, for her love would make him weak, and _his_ son would be strong.

She clenched her jaw to keep her chin from quivering. **"But he's my son,"** she said desperately, feeling as though her heart were being torn.

"**You can see him as you like,"** he said, though he knew it was not much. And even before he spoke the words he hated himself for having to say them. **"But you cannot hold him, he will be treated as every other young orc. You are his mother, but you cannot mother him." **

All the will in the world would not have kept her from crying, to have to imagine not being able to feel Bolg in her arms again, to never again see him smile as he laid secure in her arms, his hand reaching up for her cheek and his mouth opening as though to say mamma, for she could see in his pale eyes he knew who she was. And now he would forget her, and it tore her apart.

Azog got to his knees before her and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she wept, her tears hot against his skin, her sobs a sword in his heart as he held her feeling her shake against him. Though her son would remain in the camp, though she could see him as much as she wished, though she loved him so much she wished him to crawl back into her womb to never part with her, and though if he were able to think and speak Bolg would say the same, though she was his mother she could not show him her love. And in this way, she was losing him.

* * *

_Song is For Baby by John Denver - and I'll be honest, writing that last scene hurt my hearet. _

_I wasn't sure how orcs age, cause once they get to adulthood they don't seem to age at all after that. So with the threat of dwarves coming to save her, I've decided that since orcs are twisted mutations of elves that their genes would be mutated and they'd age faster. So about ten years they'd be adult size, cause that's really the only way she'd see her son grow. I hope no one is too put off by that, or thinks it too much of a horrid idea. _


	19. I've resolved to let you go

_Guest: thanks, I'm glad you like how I'll age him. _

_PS: there will be a lot of happy moments, it's just the initial pain was just awful. _

* * *

_XIX. Over and over I'm filled with emotion/Your love, it rushes through my veins/And I am filled with the sweetest devotion/As I, I look into your perfect face/It's no more mystery, it is finally clear to me/You're the home my heart searched for so long/And it is you I have loved all along_

It was within hours, when Bolg normally would have fed, that her breasts began aching for him to feed. It had woken her, though her sleep had been restless without her son's breathing next her, and she lay uncomfortable as the feeling of her breasts exploding swelled and devoured her. It pained her to think of him, as she remembered his screams as an orc took him from her. She had nearly screamed herself when his cry cut off abruptly, knowing the orc had slapped him. This would be his life, no mercy and no kindness; he would grow without love and as a mother she felt all too clear the feeling of failure as she allowed it.

Azog had held her until she stopped crying, was even still holding her now as he slept, and she tried as hard as she could to love him still. Bolg was his son too, and this was how orcs were raised – it was because she was human why it was so hard. This wasn't his fault, she realized though it had taken her hours of laying next to him hating him to understand that; orcs were strong and ruthless and anything less meant they were weak. And she had seen many an orc killed for his weakness, and she had stopped hating Azog when she thought of her son being killed for not having the strength that was required of him, and all because she had loved him.

And so she lay in despair, her breasts and her heart weeping the tears her eyes were too dry to cry. It did not lessen the next day, nor the day after; it grew and it grew until sometimes she wanted to cry, and others she wanted to lash out and strike someone. She was being driven mad by the need for her son to feed, a constant reminder that she had let him be taken from her.

Upon returning to the tent Azog was greeted with a small smile from her, and even then he could see in her eyes she was not happy, and even more he could see she was in pain. For three days he asked her, **"What is it?"** and she never answered. But on the third day she did.

She hadn't wished to anger him by telling him the reason for her pain, thinking he would not understand a woman's need to have a babe to drink her milk, thinking he would misunderstand and think she was bemoaning the loss of her child again. But seeing the concern in his pale eyes, feeling his hand on her cheek as he forced her to look at him; she couldn't remember why she had been worried, not when she could clearly see that he loved her.

"**My breasts ache to feed,"** she told him softly, seeing in his eyes he did not fully understand. With a sigh she continued. **"I have,"** she paused to think of a word in place of milk, for she did not know it, **"food and no one to eat,"** she finished. **"They hurt."**

He looked at her in surprise and she could see he now understood, and still she was left with nothing take away the sharp ache in her breasts. Her brows drew together when she saw his eyes look to her chest and then she was on the ground, she had barely blinked before he moved and he was on top. The dress she wore was old and now far too big for her since she had given birth and so Azog tore it from her body making gasp. A heat flooded through her, a warm flame that she hadn't realized had never really gone away; it was true she had not felt desire in months but it had lingered in the back of her mind waiting for him to arouse her. And arouse her he did; he replaced her sadness with his love, set her on fire with need.

There was nothing sweet, nothing nurturing and mystical as nursing a babe when Azog took a nipple between his lips; it was fire and passion and her breathing deepened, a moan tearing from her throat as he nearly sucked her entire breast in his mouth. His teeth bit into her skin, his tongue lapped at her milk, and her head fell back. The ache dissipated, traveling instead between her legs; and oh how she wanted him inside her.

He smiled at her mewling as he moved to her other breast, feeling her legs around him tightening, feeling how wet she was growing against his stomach. For months he had been waiting for this, almost afraid her desire had completely fled her, now he saw it had been hiding; waiting for him to draw it out. Her milk was honey on his tongue, a nectar he would have continued to drink if not for his own desire which was demanding to be released. Pulling his mouth off her breast he looked up at her to see her lips parted as she breathed deeply, seeing lust flood in her eyes as he pulled his loincloth from his hips to see his pale skin pinkened as he stood fully erect.

With a deep chuckle he flipped her on belly and took her hard and fast, coming in minutes before she even felt the first tendrils of her own finish. And she knew when he turned her on her back and stared hard in her eyes it would be a very long night, one full her begging and screaming for him to fuck her, ecstasy setting her soul ablaze as he brought her to a release only to let it ebb away; over and over and over again, until she was nearly crying from the force of her need. Six months since she had her son, not once had she let him lay with her, three months before that when her belly was at its largest; a total of nine months had he waited to lie with her again. Even when she had gone to the river to bathe and her body had been bare and so alluring, she still had said no. She owed him nine months of agony, and so he tortured her til dawn. He had her nearly screaming as he devoured her, holding her both her wrists and hips as she writhed beneath the movements of his tongue; and he always stopped a moment before she came, bringing her so close to the edge she was nearly falling only to draw her back leaving her whimpering. A few times he had taken her breasts in his mouth, doing nothing but keeping her desire flaring but offering no hope of a release. Twice more he took her, his own desire forcing itself known, and both times he'd finished by thrusting against her back; refusing to let her come until he gave permittance. And often he merely held her against his chest, running hand along her back as her breathing slowed from both excitement and exhaustion.

It was awful and horrible, she was in utter agony; and she loved every second of it. The feeling of his tongue running over her, penetrating her, teasing her in the cruelest of ways so she begged him to take her. It was nine months her own desire had stayed unabided, and though it made her want to weep to come so close and never finish she never wanted him to stop. Her body had shook and she had moaned as she came for nearly a minute, he was leaning over her and thrusting as deeply as he could with rough jerks of his hips; and even after she'd come he continued moving bringing her quickly to another and another.

She could barely draw breath in her lungs as he pulled out of her, laying his head on her chest as he caught his own breath. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, could feel her body still shaking slightly from how utterly exhausted she was; and sleep stole upon them in only moments leaving him to wake still laying on her breasts and realizing he was happy.

* * *

_song is It Is You I Have Loved by Dana Glover_

_The point of this chapter was a few things; one, Calla is coming to terms that the best thing for her son is to have given him to the orcs. As well as her and Azog working their way back to being how they were before Bolg - which the sex was more a show of Azog's frustrations and desires over nine months as well as Calla's whose desire had been more in hiding. And I'm thinking for the chapters that follow I will be skipping months and maybe even years, but I'll be sure to make it obvious. Thank you all for reading._


	20. twisted all our dreams

_xx. No light, no light in your bright blue eyes/I never knew daylight could be so violent/A revelation in the light of day/tell me what you want me to say/And I'd do anything to make you stay/no light no light/tell me what you want me to say._

_A month later_

She frequently visited Bolg, clenching her hands together to keep from reaching for him as he so often did to her. She could tell the two orcs responsible for him did not like when she came, for it did nothing but distract him and made him more human than orc – something Azog had as gently as he could, told her would get him killed. It did not ease the ache in her heart, nor lessen the yearning her arms had to hold him close to her chest; and yet she did not reach for him, she did not tell the orcs that struck him mercilessly when he did something wrong to stop. And many a time Azog had caught sight of her as she walked back to the tent and he followed her to hold her as she cried; he could not understand this, a mother's love, and it put a strain between them.

"**Why do you keep seeing him?"** he asked her one day, wiping a tear from her cheek. **"It does nothing but hurt you?"**

She sniffed softly as she pushed her tears aside, finding it easier and easier to keep herself from feeling when bouts of emotion overcame her. **"He is my son, how can I not?"**

Azog sighed as he stared at her, resting his forehead against hers as he breathed in tune with the rise and fall of her chest. And that settled it; Calla was his mother, so no matter how it pained her to see her son mistreated she continued to visit, seeing the slight brightening of Bolg's eyes when he saw her. As soon as he could walk they began training him, placing a small weapon in his hand and sparring roughly; striking him with the hilts of their weapons til he screamed, and Bolg quickly learned how to not only hold his weapon but also how to use it. Calla would wince when they hit him, hearing his small whimpers which silenced with time, her heart breaking when he screamed as he bled.

But she did nothing. Only one time she had stepped forward in defense of her son and the first orc turned on her with his weapon raised threateningly, and she knew all too clear they would hurt her before they stopped. Upon seeing the orc aiming his crude jagged sword at his mother, Bolg had ceased crying and picked up his small weapon and hit the orc on the leg. In a blinding rage the orc turned on Bolg and raised his sword and brought it down, a large white hand grabbed his arms and shoved him backward.

"**You will never raise a weapon to her,"** Azog roared, kicking the orc hard in stomach and flinging him in the air. He stared heaving at the orc's terrified eyes before turning to the other, **"continue training him,"** he ordered before grabbing Calla's arm and pulling her after him.

She landed hard on her side with a gasp as he threw her into the tent and she looked at his infuriated gaze.

He had felt a flash of fear at seeing a sword aimed at her chest, and that fear had ignited a terrible anger in him; and in the face of fury all sense left him. **"No place do you have trying to tell them what to do,"** he yelled. **"You are a human, you could never understand our ways."**

She stared at him with wide hurt eyes, he hadn't yelled at her like this in over two years when she had first refused him to lie with her. The problem was not that she did't understand why he was angry, it was that they believed different things when it came to their son. **"They were hurting him,"** she told him much softer, **"aimlessly."** She looked at him waiting for him to sigh and tell her he knew, that he would speak with the two orcs – like he always did – but he did not this time. Instead he looked at her waiting for her to say something else, as though that weren't enough. **"Do you not care?"** she asked him baffled.

His own eyes widened as he stared at her incredulously. **"No,"** he cried simply as though it were obvious. **"We are orcs, we do not care."** He did not understand the mistake of those words in that moment, nor would he hours later or even days later; not even faced with her hurt eyes looking at him as though he'd struck her.

"**You care for me,"** she said knowing he did, and knowing he knew it too.

And he did know it, but in the face of his rage it did not matter; and he said the words he would never cease regretting. **"Maybe that was a mistake."** He knew the moment the words left his mouth they were wrong, that he hadn't meant them for he did care for her. But he was an orc, and not only that, he was a man and he was stubborn and prideful; and so when tears filled her eyes he did not apologize, he did not reach for her, he gave her a hard look before turning on his heel and leaving her.

She covered her mouth with her hand when she started crying, and when she heard Daisy yelp knowing Azog had picked her up refusing to let her have comfort, it only made her cry more. Everything, she had given up everything for him; her maidenhood, her morals, her heart, even her son; and he called it a mistake. She had killed a man for him, had stabbed a sword through the heart of her freedom because she loved him – it couldn't be a mistake. But he did not come to her that night, and he did not come the next morning either; and with a heavy heart filled with longing and torn apart by pain she put on her cleanest dress and stepped out of the tent to see Daisy tied to a post so she couldn't go to her.

It is possible it hadn't crossed Calla's mind before then, but seeing that Azog had deliberately kept anything that might bring her ease far away had one thought going through her mind – I can do this no longer. And with that thought in her mind she went to where the orcs had her son and upon their severe glares she bent down and kissed his cheek, telling him she loved him. And then she left.

Azog knew the moment he saw her walking past Yazneg as she made for the trees she was planning to leave, and a brief moment of panic overcame him for he realized he had made a grave error the night previous. In that moment, that small insignificant moment, he realized as not only a human but a mother she was far more attune to her emotions than she ever had been and she could not be held responsible for her need to protect her young – it did not make her human, it made her a mother. Wargs displayed this trait as well, but Azog had deemed it due to her being human and therefore she had no right to her son. And he realized then he had driven her away. His revelation lasted but a moment and it faded with watching her leave him, and then hurt and betrayal set in and gave way to anger.

"**Where do you think you're going?"** he asked, surprising her as she turned around to look at him.

She hadn't thought he'd follow her, she had almost thought he would let her leave just to prove he did not care for her. And so beyond all sense she allowed herself to hope, only for it to be crushed when she looked at his hard mistrusting eyes. **"I will go southwest and take the main road to a village,"** she told him, surprising him with her knowing how to leave.

His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer and lowered his face to hers. **"You are a fool to think you can just leave,"** he told her dangerously, hiding every ounce of caring and wanting her to stay behind his cold eyes.

She no longer knew what to believe, whether he had actually felt anything for her if he had only wanted to; and it hurt her more than she dared show for it would have made him smile cruelly. **"What was this?"** she asked of him, her own eyes turning hard as her heart believed his lie of not caring for her. **"Did you wake up one day and decide you wanted a pet, is that all I was?"** she demanded, her own anger and hurt and betrayal turning to hysterics. **"Why did you keep me, why didn't you just rape me and do away with me like all the others?"** Her voice became almost shrill and it left him staring down at her realizing he had taken his own frustrations too far – he only wanted her to stop mourning her son, who was well and good and on his way to becoming a warrior, but he had led her to not knowing his own feelings; and in all truth, he was worried. **"What made me different? Was I just a really good fuck?"**

"**Enough,"** he cried silencing her, and he reached for her to grab her arm only for her shove him away.

"**You can have your son,"** she said, her voice deeper with the threat of tears. **"You can make him into the monster you want him to be, make him exactly like you. And you can have Daisy, now that she's had her pups you can ride her. But if all I was was a woman for you to lay with,"** her eyes glistened with the tears she would not cry, **"then you cannot have me."** Her chest was numb, as though it had been torn open and everything inside she had just laid in his hands, and she swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared him down.

His blackened heart kept him from doing what he knew he should, kept him from falling to his knees and swearing he had only ever loved her; and it kept him from becoming anything but infuriated. **"Then go,"** he said cruelly, no challenge in his voice and no dare in his eye, only finality.

And so she did. And he stood watching her as she walked away, knowing she would come back. Even after he returned to the camp and minutes turned to hours he knew she would return. When day turned to night he sat waiting for her to walk into the tent and lay beside him, to tell him she knew he cared. When dawn rose and he lived through another day he knew she couldn't possibly not return, knew that no matter what he said she wouldn't leave him because she loved him. But she did not return. When the sun set and he laid awake another sleepless night and the sun broke over the horizon for another day; she did not return.

* * *

_song is No light No light by Florence and the Machine_

_I'm going to start off by saying I had not planned for this chapter to go the way it did. I got to the part where the orc turned on her and held his sword to her and then I had the thought that was like, hey why doesn't she leave; and it kind of seemed natural. Cause Calla as a mother isn't okay with watching her son be hurt, and Azog is frustrated cause he wants her to stop being hurt by it; it's just how orcs are, it's how he was raised. So what's unnatural for her is completely normal - and expect - for him. And they butt heads over it, and Azog being an orc doesn't really know how to not fight her and so he drives her away. And Calla is now devestated cause Azog's done a pretty damn good job of making it seem like he feels nothing for her, and so she doesn't know what to think anymore. But next chapter will show just how much she's lost while being with Azog, and I'm kind of excited for it and I hope you guys aren't too mad the direction's changed drastically._


	21. til you became the nightmare

_XXI. Didn't ask you to save me/Not when you knew me well/Wouldn't ask you even to behave for me/I know there's no hope in hell/Take the night off and be bad for me/Take it right off and be bad for me_

"**Should we not go after her?"** Yazneg asked him on the second day, having been too afraid of Azog's black mood the day previous; only now he was quickly realizing that the girl had no intention of returning, a thought that almost saddened him for he had grown used to seeing her nearly everyday.

Azog turned dark eyes on him. **"She is coming back,"** he ground through clenched teeth, unable to believe she wouldn't.

And so Yazneg had left it, recoiling from Azog as he went about his duties. It was not until he saw Daisy, still tied up for she would only chase after Calla, that he wondered if she had ever planned on returning. The decision was made for him; his mind was cluttered with pictures of her smile, of her kindness and gentleness; her place was here, at Azog's side only he was too stubborn to go to her.

"**What are you doing?"** Azog demanded darkly, glaring at him as he untied Daisy and mounted his own warg.

With a steel in his spine that could only be attributed to the strength of Calla he faced Azog. **"I am bringing her back,"** he told him firmly, knowing Azog would not kill him – hurt him, yes. Whip him to an inch of his life, certainly. But with Calla death would never come, that was something he had learned years ago. And when Azog did no more than stand his ground and look upon him hatefully, Yazneg knew it even more.

Daisy sniffed the ground determinedly, racing after Calla's scent, and Yazneg atop his warg raced after her. He had to call her back to keep her from following Calla's smell directly to a camp, and Daisy whined knowing she had gone there and she wanted to sniff all around; but instead Yazneg led her around, unseen, and Daisy found her scent along the ground once more and she ran off. She refused to stop when the sun went down, Calla's scent stronger and newer and she was far too excited to rest and so she continued on despite Yazneg telling her to stop and he was forced to follow.

With a gleeful yelp Daisy ran as fast as she could and Yazneg knew she'd found Calla, and he lept from his warg to find her sitting on the ground staring in the night at a village half a league away.

"**He sent you to get me,"** she said bitterly, petting Daisy as she licked her face.

Yazneg sat beside her knowing his next words would hurt her worse than that. **"He did not send me." **

Calla gave a short laugh and shook her head, finding she no longer even cared. "Of course he didn't."

"**He was convinced you would come back on your own,"** Yazneg offered, knowing it didn't do much to lessen her hurt. **"You stopped at the camp,"** he said giving her something else to talk about.

She nodded, now laying on Daisy who gladly let her as she panted. **"I told them I was running away,"** she told him. **"They gave me food."**

He looked at her closely in the moonlight to see her sad face. **"You did not stay with them?"** he asked, wondering why she hadn't, they might have taken her with them and given her a place to stay.

She was quiet a long while before she answered.** "It took me several moments to speak to them,"** she said softly, feeling tears well in her eyes as they had when she was looking at the three men and woman. **"I had trouble remembering the words. Every time I tried to speak I almost said it in your tongue."** She stopped when she felt her chin quiver, what the people had thought of as sorrow had truly been despair. **"And they asked me what I was running away from, what could I tell them?"** she asked looking at him with glistening eyes full of sadness and pain. **"An orc I foolishly let myself care for, and believe he cared for me in return?"** She gave a pitiful tear-filled laugh as she shook her head, irritably wiping the few tears from her cheeks.

"**So you did not stay with them,"** Yazneg said not understanding though trying to keep her from crying. **"How long have you been sitting here?" **

"**A little after noon,"** she answered softly, having sat in the same spot for over twelve hours.

What he could not understand was why she hadn't gone to the village, or even staid with the camp; they were her freedom, she could finally escape and never go back with the orcs, a new start at life. But she hadn't taken either of them. **"Why have you not gone to the village?"** he asked, knowing he would never understand unless she told him.

"**I was going to,"** she admitted, remembering the feel of relief at seeing it and realizing she was finally free. But two boys, no older than fourteen, had passed her and they stopped a little while to speak with her. They had been scouting, or as much as they could have for they saw it as more of an adventure in their still young age; and they laughed and joked with one another as they told her of the things they'd seen such as boars and other animals. They had shared their lunch with her, deeming her the most beautiful woman they'd ever seen save a young woman named Lily who was more their age with lovely golden hair and a laugh like a chiming bell. They were kind, and young, and not an ounce of cruelty dwelt in either of their hearts.

"**Why did you not?"** he asked her gently, seeing she was so very vulnerable in this moment – seeing she truly was very beautiful in her humanity.

She felt the tears well in her throat, could feel them burning in her eyes. The answer was so simple, and it despaired her greatly. **"Because I am ruined,"** she said, her voice strained as she tried not to cry. She buried her face in Daisy's fur to hide her tears, remembering how much it had surprised to see such open kindness between two young boys, and even the kind and goodness from the people from the camp.

The answer was clear, so obvious even Yazneg understood; and he looked upon her with pity and he let her sit against Daisy as long as she needed before she climbed atop her warg and followed him as he took her back to Azog.

…

He should have been enraged at seeing her face when they arrived, should have been livid she had dared leave and now returned. But he wasn't, not entirely. Something in his chest had fluttered at the sight of her, a hope had spread through him and relief had washed over him that she was well and before him. She headed to the tent, pointing to the place outside for Daisy to sit, and she entered waiting for him to follow.

"**Has she said anything?"** he asked Yazneg, wondering if she told him why she left and why she returned.

Yazneg nodded. **"She said many things."**

"**Where did you find her?"**

Yazneg looked up at him warily. **"Outside of a village,"** he answered, seeing the surprise on Azog's face to hear she hadn't gone there.

"**She did not,"** he began asking but Yazneg shook his head and he ceased talking.

"**Nor did she stay with a camp she came across,"** he told Azog shocking him more.

Azog stood staring hard at the tent, wanting to go there but also wanting answers he was not sure she would give him. **"Has she said why?"**

Yazneg looked at him, knowing very well his choice of words might cause him harm but he was finding that he liked Calla just a bit more. **"You ruined her,"** he answered, taking her previous answer and placing the blame where it belonged; where Calla hadn't.

He turned to the orc with wide eyes to see him staring at him defiantly. **"**_**I**_** ruined her?"** he demanded, his eyes hardening.

And Yazneg nodded. **"She has forgotten what it means to be human,"** he told Azog, freezing his anger. **"You should apologize,"** he offered. **"You may lose her completely if you don't."**

Azog turned from Yazneg and stalked to the tent, giving himself a reminder to have Yazneg hurt for his audacity. But that all faded away when he saw Calla's eyes. Her dark blue eyes so warm and kind, baring her love for him so clearly, were now hard and cold as she stared at him.

"**You left Yazneg to come get me,"** she said when he did not speak**. "You were right, I am a fool,"** she told him bitterly. **"I had hoped you would come yourself." **

He was left staring down at her not knowing what to do or even to say, if there was there was anything he could say to make right his wrong – and he was seeing all too well how wrong he had been. He could see it in her eyes, she'd needed him; to understand, to hold her, to care for her; and he had turned away offering nothing but his frustrations. And so he did all he could, he got down on his knees before and stared up at her angry face.

She had come to realize many things in the three days she had been gone: he did in fact care for her was the first, as an orc he loathed weakness and that was all she was for him was the second, and the third had been that this wasn't any easier for him. And so seeing him on his knees, as weak as he could have ever made himself to her, had her heart softening to him even though she did not want it to.

"**Say it,"** she ordered quietly, neither eyes nor her voice offering to be refused. **"You liar, say it,"** she demanded, slamming her hands against his chest nearly sending him off balance, and still he stayed before her with calm eyes begging forgiveness. **"Tell me you don't care for me." **

He said nothing, for it was untrue and she knew it. She knew he loved her, she knew it with her entire heart and it had taken three restless nights for her to remember; and even more than that, she was aware he knew it too. She stood looking down at him, the top of his head coming to her chin, her chest heaving and her entire body craving the feel of him though she had wished it not to.

He was surprised when she moved, when she grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers; and he surprised her when fought her tongue, moving his mouth on hers as he had never done before. And he crushed her to him, hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs and make her burst into flames with the need for air though she never came up for it. Without a single care he tore the dress from her, ruining the blue dress she'd had since he'd first found her, before pulling her closer. As though he wanted to pull her inside of him. She had his loincloth off before he even knew she'd done it and he flattened her to the ground, reluctantly separating their hungry mouths, and he thrust hard into her.

It would not be until the next day that they saw what they had done to each other; her smooth skin littered with his fingerprints, his back clawed from her nails. In that moment pain was nothing compared to their utter desire, their moans hard and rough nearly yells and screams from the weight of their release. And they laid against each other finally coming to the surface for air, gasping as their pounding hearts slowed to an even rhythm.

"**Do you really believe this a mistake?"** she asked him softly, her fingers tracing the indent of the scars along his chest.

With a hand around her back he wound his own fingers in her hair, enjoying the softness of it on his rough skin. **"Yes,"** he told her honestly. **"But I do not regret it." **He felt her smile against his chest before she pressed a kiss over his heart, not knowing his heart was not there. How could it be, he placed it in her hand.

* * *

_song is Take the Night Off by Laura Marling. I must say she ties with Florence and the Machine for me._

PS: that song really was only a matter of time, and I do love it so much. And I'm very glad to hear you'll read it no matter where I'll take it. But I will say we are slowly getting back on track.


	22. close it off inside

_XXII. Baby sleep, genlty sleep/life is long and love is deep/Time will be sweet for thee/all the world to see/Time to look about and know/how the shadows come and go/How the breeze stirs the trees/How the blossoms grow_

They slipped their way back into how it used to be, not before she had left, not before they had drifted away from each other, but before Bolg. Their son was not to blame, though that was not the way Azog saw it – to him it was obvious, everything had gone wrong after he had been born therefore he was at fault – but Calla, being human, knew it was more than that. She had emotions, she was raised in emotions that were love and comfort and safety and kindness; Azog was not, he was raised in cruelty, without mercy or comfort. And just as he had ruined her, she had ruined him. She had showed him what it meant to feel, and he had learned that not all feelings were pleasant; though there were some, such as his love and desire for her, that burned him in the sweetest of ways. He had learned how to care though only for her, his treatment of his orcs hadn't changed but a little and it was entirely unnoticed by them.

All except Yazneg. He had dared not only tell Azog what to do, but he had dared to go against his wishes; all of which would mean death, or at the very least being beaten until an inch of his life as he had been before. And yet the day after he had brought Calla back Azog and she left the tent and he did no more than give him an order to take her to see her son – no beating, no whipping, no glare or cruel words. Azog had smiled down at her, a barely imperceptible upturn of the corners of his mouth, and he gently touched her cheek before leaving her.

"**What did you say to him?"** he asked curiously, knowing she must have for there was no other explanation.

Calla looked at him innocently. **"Are you so sure I said anything?"** she asked him with a small smile and he gave her a stern look.

"**I know you did,"** he told her, now wanting to know what it was.

Her smile grew and she shook her head. **"I only told him he cannot punish you for being right,"** she said shocking him with her audacity, still unable to believe she could say things in such a manner without provoking his anger. **"And that nothing would have changed had you said nothing."**

He walked silently by her side, amazed she had said those things in defense of him. So incredulous of her caring and compassion for him was he that when they stood watching Bolg being trained and the orc who'd held his sword at her spit in her direction, Yazneg had rebuffed him. **"Perhaps Azog would like to know the ways in which you treat his mate?" **he had asked the orc sternly, making his eyes widen and him turn quickly away. Yazneg exhaled proudly and looked down to see Calla smiling softly. **"What?"** he asked her, his voice harsher than he'd meant.

She shook her head. **"Nothing,"** she said simply though he did not buy it.

He turned to her fully and demanded, **"what"** again.

"**I did not realize how much you liked me, is all," **she said coyly, her lips pursed slightly to keep from smiling and he grunted. **"Pretend all you like,"** she told him pleasantly, seeing through his façade, **"you and I are friends."**

His only response was a derisive snort, though even he knew how false it was. For she was right, they were friends; and in all honestly he had never had one before.

…

Azog greeted her that night with a near playful look in his eye as he lifted her and settled on top of her on the ground, chuckling deeply at her sound of surprise.

"**You cannot tear this dress,"** she said as he moved his mouth from hers to the base of her neck. **"It is my last one."**

With an impatient grumble he gently pulled the garment from her shoulders and bared her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he settled between them. He wanted her, it was as simple as that, but he knew she was not ready for him. And as much as he wished to take her and please himself, he moved his mouth to her breasts and his hand between her legs and he made her ready.

They were far more gentle that night, she did not claw his back and he did not hold her tight enough to paint her skin; he loved her slow and deep, pulling her legs further up his sides to penetrate her deeper making them moan incessantly until their bodies shook with their release.

"**How was your day?"** she asked breathless, running her hands along his head his neck as he laid on her chest.

"**Good enough,"** he answered, his lips pressed the swell of a breast, and his tongue snaked out to caress it before he continued. **"We have plans to move back to our trees."**

"**So soon?"** she asked and felt him nod. **"How can you tell winter is coming?"**

He bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth, smiling at the feel of her hands tightening on his shoulders as he sucked harder. **"The wind is changing,"** he told her as he slowly moved down her body, feeling her breathing deepen at what was to come. **"It is coming early this year,"** he said as he settled between her legs, throwing them over his shoulders.

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to hear her moan for him, to know he was pleasing her in a way no one ever had or will; to hear that she was completely and utterly his. And he truly loved nothing more than the way she moaned his name, a hard throaty sound that had him stiffening once more and taking her a second time.

He desired this sporadically over the next two weeks, sometimes needing to taste her before he could take her; knowing she loved it, and loving that she did. And other times he was content merely laying with her, or when she saw he was tired she would lay his head on her chest and soothe him into slumber. When they were alone things were well and good, he had never loved her more after having almost lost her to his own stubborn foolishness; but they still did not agree on the raising of their son. Azog was strong-willed and hard headed, and Calla more often than not gave up arguing and agreed.

And still she flinched and her heart hurt at the sight and sound of Bolg being struck for doing something wrong. He had gotten bigger in a month, now starting to form small words. And one day, when her heart could not take Bolg being struck mercilessly for the fifth time that day, she stepped forward and took the sword from the orc.

"**What are you doing?"** he demanded, seething as he glared at her; wanting to take the sword and drive it through her heart. She would be the death of them he knew, for Azog had asked for their greatest warrior to be made out of his son and she did nothing but make him weak – and Azog's wrath would not fall on her, it never did.

She looked at him with her own severe eyes, wanting herself to take the sword and drive it through his chest. But she didn't, she looked to her son who was staring up at her with large worried eyes for the beating he knew was coming. **"Pick it up,"** she said firmly and he scurried to obey. She looked to the other orc, who was not any happier though he feared Azog's care of her more than the other did. **"Try again,"** she told him.

Bolg looked up at his mother and then to the orc and raised his small mace. When the orc moved Bolg was not quick enough to par and his weapon fell out of his hand as it had all day. She watched his head fall and his chin quiver as he waited to be hit, and with the blunt side of the sword she brought it to his bottom making him jump startled. **"Pick it up,"** she ordered again, offering no refusal neither in her face nor voice, and in a shocked stupor he complied. **"Do not drop it again, Bolg,"** she told him sternly.

Her strike had hurt him for no more than seconds, stinging more than anything; and it was the nicest he had been treated since he was first taken from her. But she was his mother, and therefore it had hurt the worst of all. And so when the orc jumped forward to attack Bolg was sure to do it right, and his weapon staid firm in his grasp. With wide eyes full of glee he looked up at her. **"I did,"** he told her, his heart swelling at her proud smile.

"**Very good,"** she told him gently, placing her hand on the top of his head – all the loving she thought Azog would allow. **"Would you like to do it again." **

Bolg nodded fervently and made himself ready, planting his small feet in the ground and holding his little mace in his small hand. And again he sparred as he had been taught, his mace staying in his grip as it should. Calla smiled down on her son before turning to the orc beside her, still holding his sword at her side. All mirth left her as she looked at him coldly. **"You are not to lay a hand, or weapon, on him. Should you disregard this warning I will spear you through the ass with this sword,"** she ground out to him, watching his eyes soften as worry took fury's place; it had been some time since she had first asserted her place among them, and here she did it again. He had almost forgotten her own cruelty, however slight, and was now staring it warily in the face. Startled he stepped back and grabbed the sword when she slammed it onto his chest, and he watched her as she turned and walked away; all of them taking note of Azog for the first time.

She faltered not even a step at seeing him and she walked calmly to where he stood. He almost smiled at that, seeing the strength in her that had only been growing. And now, after witnessing Bolg doing as she told him to please her, he saw that perhaps she had been right all along; not on everything though, if Calla had it her way she would wait until he was of age to train him. But in this, her gentle firmness filled with love might make him the fiercest of all; just as she had done to Daisy, who had killed a warg far larger than herself for trying to mount her when she did not want it. **"Stay with him,"** he told her quietly, surprising her. **"As he grows, let him know you are watching. Perhaps it will give him reason to do well." **Her smile was breathtaking as she looked at him, so much so he wanted to rip her dress and take her then. But he didn't, for she would not allow it when there were other eyes to see. And so he looked to the two orcs who were waiting for him to speak to them. **"Train him as you have, but do not strike him. Should he make a grave error let Calla punish him,"** he told them, and they did not dare refuse. They watched Azog place a large hand on her back and lead her away, speaking softly with her as they went. Their leader, and his mate.

* * *

_song is from the movie The Village_

_So next chapter, as a little warning, will have them laying together out in the open. And I'm going to try to make that as non-cringe worthy as I can, but that may be a little difficult. However, it's something that's natural for Azog; and in all honesty he really doesn't care where they do it, he just wants to. It's her that's reluctant. And if I've been doing my job right, more and more of her humanity is being stripped away; so the fact that they sleep together in front of the others really just makes her very nonhuman. And that is also for a purpose. I hope I won't put anyone off too greatly. _


	23. or else the hurt is gonna rise

_XXIII. why do stars fall from the sky/every time you walk by/just like me they long to be/close to you_

Within the next month Bolg's strength was growing, with Calla standing aside often by Yazneg, and her short quick smacks on his bottom when he did something wrong – his training was progressing at a wonderful rate. Many a time Azog would stand behind her, sometimes unnoticed, watching her as she watched Bolg; and it pleased him to not only to see the warrior his son would become but to see how proud she was when he struck his target as he was told. On the times she knew he was behind her he would touch her softly, his hands running along her sides and up into her hair where he would tug it so she'd look up at him. And on those times they often returned to the tent, and their delighted sounds were heard by those closest; but those times were few for Azog was busy preparing for them to move back to the forest for the winter which was now steadily coming closer though it still had two months.

Many nights Calla slept with only Daisy at her side, Azog with a team of orcs as they built up their supplies by raiding villages for the harsh winter they knew would come. It was on those nights to them both their love for the other was known the most, for they laid at night with an ache in their chests to be together once more with their warm naked bodies wrapped around each other. Over two weeks he was away from her once, their numbers split in half – half to build their stock and the other half to prepare to leave – and they felt nearly every hour they were parted as though they could not breathe if the other's heart did not beat near their own.

She had waited impatiently, restless and fidgety, so much so she made Daisy anxious as well. Calla would toss and turn unable to find rest when she was so cold without his warmth, go about her day as though it would never end but no peace found in her rest because sleep did not come often, and not even watching Bolg cleared her mind when all seeing him did was remind her Azog. She felt a lovesick fool, pathetic and weak at how desperate and needy she was to have him with her that she could barely stand to go through day after day without him.

Fourteen days, a number of hours and minutes and seconds she could have counted that was how great she felt them passing; what was only a short two weeks felt years to her. And it was not until late at night when dawn was mere hours away, not until sleep had come at last as a short mindless reprieve, that a hand on her back woke her. And it was turning on her side and looking up at the dark silhouette of Azog, just barely seeing his eyes when he leaned over her, that she saw he had missed her just as greatly. With a sigh she grabbed his face and pulled him to her, his weight warm and heavy on top of her as they laid breathing together. Oh how he wanted her, feeling her breasts firm against his chest as she breathed deeply, feeling her lips brushing against his as they gasped for air they could just now breathe, he wanted her. Slow and deep, his body burning with the flames of his desire, her moans drowning his ears and her legs wrapped tight around him quivering with need.

"**We are leaving,"** he said quietly, reluctantly and seeing the unhappiness in her eyes as well.

She had been imagining what he had, allowing herself to want him with a sharp ache that now grew as she was faced with waiting. **"Right this moment?"** she asked nearly breathless and she could see in his eyes he didn't want to more than she did. And so he stood pulling her along with him, holding her small body to him, his hands clenching the back of her dress in his fists as though he'd tear it off her – and he greatly wanted to – and then they stepped out of the tent.

They rode through the day, Calla atop Daisy and Azog on a new warg the color of dirt. He often watched her, taking in the way her breasts bounced as Daisy ran, finding the more he was faced with her and not able to have her the stronger his desire grew. By nightfall it was unbearable, and knowing she would not let him touch her unless they were in the tent made it only worse. He no longer wanted to lay with her, he needed to.

"**What are you doing?"** she asked him softly, pulling his hand from her legs and righting her dress over them again.

He yanked her closer and rolled so she was half underneath him, pressing his hardened flesh against her hip so she'd know he needed her. But it was as though it did not matter for she still refused. **"Please,"** he begged softly in her ear, his hand holding her waist firmly as he fought not to force her.

"**Azog,"** she whispered, still refusing though her own want was clear in her eyes. She pressed her lips together to keep from speaking when he rolled away from her, knowing she would tell him nothing more than no and her voice would hold little kindness. In all truth she wanted to say yes, so much in that moment at seeing how desperate he was for her – something that always left her more aroused than anything, to know he desired her and that it pained him how strong his need for her was. But there was no tent to hide them, no walls no matter how thin to make her feel less exposed, and so she said nothing to lessen his anger or their lust.

It seemed even her own mind was against her for she dreamed of his hands on her, pulling the front of her dress open and pinching her hardened nipples until she squirmed, and then she dreamed of his mouth on them; his warm tongue caressing her puckering skin causing a heat to flood between her legs. It was not until she woke and her mind slammed into focus from the chilled air on her skin, that she realized she hadn't been dreaming. The night was cold enough that she and Azog had slept beneath a warg pelt, but it was cast carelessly aside and she was sprawled on her back with the laces of her dress untied and her breasts exposed to the thousands of eyes of the stars above her.

Her lips parted as though to moan but she stayed silent, doing nothing more than breathing as she tried to stay quiet while Azog's teeth bit into her breast as he sucked hard on a nipple; feeling his lips quirk when her back arched knowing she was now awake. She continued to lay staring at the twinkling lights glaring, holding her breath when she felt a moan in her throat, and breathing deeply when it passed.

"**Azog,"** she whispered, pulling his head up to hers. He smiled devilishly down at her before pulling her dress up, spreading her legs around him and watching lust flood her eyes as he settled against her. She had missed him, every inch of her that had craved him now buzzed with the need for him on her – in her. Her breasts, which had gone untouched for two weeks, throbbed and burned in the sweetest of pains from how they'd missed his touch, his mouth. And she had missed feeling his weight between her legs, could feel her body was searching for him. **"We can't,"** she told him in the end, hearing the snores of the others around them as they slept; knowing it would not take much to wake them. She felt him sliding down her body and she grabbed his shoulders. **"I said no,"** she whispered, her firmness evident still in her voice, as well as the tremor of giving in that he knew so well.

He moved so he was staring down at her, his eyes hot as he gave her a hard look. **"I will have you begging me like a whore in front of them all if you continue to refuse,"** he warned softly as he stroked her cheek, seeing the surprise in her eyes. Her neck arched as he raked his teeth along her throat, feeling her breasts pushing more against him as her breathing deepened, seeing from her closed eyes that though she said no she did not mean it. He waited until she looked at him again, her eyes blazing with yearning, before he continued. **"If you don't want them to see, then don't let them know."**

Her heart was racing as he moved down her body knowing what he would do, and that it was all well and good to tell her to be quiet but actually making no sound was another matter she could not do. She shivered when the wind licked her moist breasts, as its chilled bite caressed her spread legs; it was like a cold knife through her from how wet she was, and she grit her teeth at the feeling of his warm tongue. All the will in the world could not have kept her silent, though he was nipping and sucking and loving in all the ways he knew made her moan the loudest. She nearly choked at the feel of his his tongue inside her, dragging along her walls as he sucked, a moan ripping from her throat when his teeth dug into her bud. He began moving his mouth as though he were thrusting, her moans sounding louder and more frequent unable to be stifled as he tortured her cruelly; and she was left gasping as he pulled away before she found her release, reality falling around her as she realized she had been anything but quiet. Azog moved up her body and stared into her wide eyes, seeing the shock mingling with her desire. **"Do you see the stars?"** he asked her softly, bending his neck uncomfortably so he could whisper in her ear.

Calla looked up to see them twinkling against the dark sky. **"Yes," **she answered breathlessly, feeling him pulling her legs up his sides as he entered her, making her back arch as heat flared through her.

He thrust slowly in her. **"Do you see them shining?"** he asked her as he continued to move, seeing her brows crease every time he entered her, her moans a soft mewling.

"**They look like they're glaring,"** she said as she stared up at them, seeing them flare and then dim only to come back to watch her again, feeling eyes all over her.

Azog tsked and shook his head, pushing hard against her and watching her eyes close as her head fall back at the feel of him deeper in her; seeing from her face and feeling from her tightening walls that she was standing on the edge. **"They are jealous,"** he told her, running a thumb over a hardened nipple and pinching it.

She was finding it harder to breathe, her heart pounding in her chest threatening to burst as she stayed with her body buzzing and twitching as she slowly found a release with each agonizingly slow thrust. **"Of what?"** she asked moaning, her back arching the harder his fingers clenched around her nipple.

He released his hold on her breast and smoothed her hair, watching as she turned her head and kissed his palm. **"Of me,"** he answered, feeling her lips drag across his skin as she turned to look at him with half aware eyes – a boiling between her legs as her finish stayed where it was, him having pulled out and leaving her empty. **"They long to be apart of you,"** he said entering her slowly before pulling out. **"To kiss your breasts,"** he said thrusting in her only enough to push her further, but not over the edge, seeing in her eyes and hearing in her groan she was in agony waiting so close. **"To taste you, to be inside you."** He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to pull out, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in her and come; but he waited, seeing in her dark lust-filled eyes she was hanging on his every word. **"You,"** he said pulling her hips onto his making her eyes roll back as she stepped over the edge, **"are more beautiful than them."** He thrusted deep as she writhed beneath him, moaning as she came, her hands around his waist pulling him closer as she arched into him. He followed suit a short while after she stilled and he rested his forehead over hers as he caught his breath.

She looked up at him with content, tired eyes. **"I missed you,"** she told him softly making him smile.

His only answer was to press his mouth against hers, a gentle sweet kiss that spoke of his love more than any words ever could. And he loved her greatly.

* * *

_the song is Close To You by the Carpenters - however, I've only heard the version from the movie MirrorMask, and I don't know who sang that. _

_So I left out the orcs completely from the sex scene, cause I was gonna write them after but then I started and it was just weird and awkward feeling. So I'll let you guys imagine that part, cause they were amazed at seeing her being pleased in such a manner, and just that she was being pleased in the first place. And though this chapter may not seem like much, it's actually very important. Cause seeing that Azog pleases her, and not just that but that he specifically does things she enjoys and do nothing for him - it just shows the orcs that he truly does care for her, and makes her even more of an "orc queen" if you will. It also shows that they have come to really love each other: cause Calla missed him so much, and he missed her too, and the way he spoke to her while he was making love to her. It was all to show that he just loves her. _


	24. Couldn't sleep last night

_PS: thanks, I can't wait to get to Calla pleasing him too. The poets were more so she'd not look around her and see all the orcs staring at them - but I really enjoyed writing that bit. Even though I know the end I still root for them too. Thank you very much for reviewing. _

* * *

_XXIV. I sense there's something in the wind/That feels like tragedy's at hand/And though I'd like to stand by him/Can't shake this feeling that I have/The worst is just around the bend_

_One year later_

"**Good Bolg, hit him more on the left," **Calla told her son, watching as he now struck the orc on the left forcing him back. A hand on her shoulder had her looking up and she smiled as Azog looked down at her. **"He has gotten better,"** she said softly, Azog not having smiled in return. **"Is something wrong?" **

He led her away, looking back once to see their son parry the two orcs as they attacked and watched briefly as Bolg held his own. She was right, he was better, and he was bigger; Azog knew Bolg would match in height if not taller in the years to come, and he could already see that he would be strong. **"I think it is time you are no longer present as he trains," **he told her gently though his voice was firm.

She stopped walking and looked up at him with furrowed brows. **"What has made you think that?"** she asked, watching Bolg train being the only time she saw her son let alone spoke to him.

Azog sighed knwoing she would not wish to. **"He is an orc,"** he told her. **"He has reached the age and strength that they will take him out to hunt, and kill. I do not wish for you to see."** He watched her eyes soften, her hand coming up to rest on his chest; and as always he was amazed at how quickly her refusal and irritations faded at hearing what he did was for her. But he knew his next words would not bode well. **"And that includes his punishing." **

He was not wrong, her hand dropped and her eyes hardened. **"I will not stand for him being beaten aimlessly,"** she told him firmly.

"**And he must learn obedience to someone other than you," he said firmly. "He is of the age where what you deem cruel is necessary. Should he do wrong now it will mean his death, there will be no more speaking of this." **

She looked up at him with a set jaw before turning to the sound of Bolg as he fought with the two orcs. Azog looked at her face, now saddened, and he sighed deeply.

"**In the evenings when they return he will come to you and tell you of his day,"** he said softly, looking at her blue eyes when she turned to him. He watched her nod before she leaned into him, and her lips pressed against his skin as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  
**"When will you be leaving?"** she mumbled against his chest, him having been preparing for two days to set out scavenging.

He would his fingers in her curls as he held her close. **"At dawn." **

She did not want him to leave, whether it be in fear he would not return or the fear of how much she missed him when he was gone. **"A week this time, you said?"** she asked, her voice small and the sound of her unhappiness clear to his ears.

"**If not a few days more,"** he said just as unhappy, finding it harder and harder to leave her for days, finding that he wished her to come though he would not expose her to the horrors of raiding a village – at least not yet. And so she would stay, and they would ache unbearably as they were parted.

They moved desperately that night, his hands holding her legs tight in his grasp as he forced them further apart and her nails digging into his backside as she pulled him closer, their moans loud and hard and escalating in both volume and frequency as they came closer to a release. He laid on his side holding her in his arms as he breathed in the feel of her, knowing his arms and his body would miss her on the long cold nights as they scavenged. He did not want to leave her, and when dawn came he wanted to even less; forcing himself to unwound her from his arms and leave, kissing her softly and saying goodbye before him and over half their numbers moved out.

It was a long week, Calla often sitting in the tent as she stayed with Daisy, who had just birthed another litter, Yazneg having gone with Azog this time. Her friend and her mate were both gone, and though the orcs that stayed behind to keep the camp were enjoyable enough it was not the same. Yazneg had never been one to try to please her, he had simply did what he was told and when he began to like her he continued speaking with her and teaching her because he enjoyed her company; the rest of the orcs either wanted to make her happy by doing everything for her, or wanted to please Azog by showing her kindness – neither of which she cared much for. But she took it all with a small smile, glad they were kinder at all to her and not so willing to kill or rape her, and there were a few even she liked well enough. But if she were to be honest, she truly only wanted Azog; if they were the only two living things left in all of the world she might still be happy and content.

And so she spent her lonesome days finishing the hide Azog had taken from a warg for her to make some sort of clothing out of; and in all truth it was not much. There was not enough of it to make any sort of dress, at least not one that would cover both her breasts and her backside, and as uncomfortable as she was with how much of her flesh would be visible Azog was right in that she needed something that would last; this was her second dress that year and it was already falling apart from how many times she'd had to clean it – she had also taken up cooking, dissatisfied with the way it was prepared so she had offered to do it and many nights her dress bloodied from preparing meat. So Azog had taken the pelt from an injured warg they'd killed out of mercy, and she had cut away all the parts she could not use, she was left with just barely enough to cover her breasts and parts of her waist; and she had a very strong feeling Azog had left out some of the pelt so more of her skin would show. She had already salted it, which had taken days, and she was now finishing tanning and was leaving it to dry. For the life of her she could not think of what to do with it, Azog refusing her to give her more – which only made her suspicions that he wanted to see as much of her flesh as he could grow rampant. But it was all she had and many of the dresses Azog brought her back did not fit, and he assured this way it would fit and would not fall into tatters or fade after such little time.

But even that left her little to do for it took many hours to dry, especially in the cold air and the chilling winds that had her hanging it in the tent. The only part of her days she enjoyed were the evenings when Bolg would come to her, telling her excitedly of what he'd learned and bringing her his game when he killed an animal – which was not often yet in his still young age – and he would sit and eat with her, pressed right up against her.

"**Why don't I look like you, mother?"** he asked her once.

She'd smiled down at him. **"Because you look like your father,"** was her answer, which he was pleased enough with for his father was still so terrifying and mystical to him.

"**Am I ugly, mother?"** he'd asked her another night, thinking her the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and finding even his hands near her to be horrid in comparison. But she smiled as her small soft hands touched his cheek, warming his little heart.

"**I think you are the most handsome boy in all of the earth,"** she answered, and he ducked his head shyly as he smiled.

He loved his mother, more than his heart had room for and still he loved her more. Often the orcs training would emphasize a point by including thoughts of her, seeing much of his motivation lay in her, and he would learn the way to kill an animal – or sometimes a man they'd found from a camp – so that one day should he need to he'd be able to protect her. And eventually, in his twisted orc of a heart, he grew to enjoy the power he felt when taking a life, enjoyed the screams and the tears as only an orc could – and even still, when her blue eyes looked upon his face no matter how ugly, she loved him.

After seven days Azog and the others returned, with bundles and sacks of food and other things they either needed or wanted, and she came out of the tent to greet him. But there was no joy at seeing her on his face, no love and warmth as she always saw when he returned; and in that moment, seeing the utter relief and then the worry in his eyes, she knew something was wrong. And she knew it even more so when he stepped to her, Yazneg coming near to her other side, Azog placing her behind him and turned to the trees. Ice filled her veins when she saw what stepped out; another orc pack, one larger than their own.

* * *

_Song is Sally's Song from Nightmare Before Christmas_

_I was thinking about how to do this orc pack, cause I want to show that they're super orcish; cause I don't think I've made Azog and his pack as god awful as they actually are (or at least I didn't show all of their horrible moments, so they don't seem as bad). So with this new pack I would really like to show that, but I'm not quite sure how to do that. I'm thinking they might have sex slaves, sort of, more like a poor woman(multiple women) to rape whenever they feel like it; but that's about all I can think of except how they'll speak to and look at Calla. But does anyone else have any other ideas?_


	25. cause I tries to forget you,

_PS: I guess you could take my having not talked about the women in a few ways; the more they got used to Calla the less women were around because it upset her and they wanted to please her. But I will say they do always rape women when they raid villages, so that hasn't stopped. And I'm saying they probably wouldn't keep women during the winter cause then they have to feed them and supplies kind of run low and they probably just don't want to deal with them during that time of season. Also, and this is probably the actually reason, I've left a lot of what the orcs do out of the story and their awfulness stopped being so apparent when Calla started feeling things for Azog, cause Calla has chosen not to see certain things in order for herself to survive. So there are probably women around somewhere their camp (maybe only one or two for them to take turns raping in the winter) but Calla's not seeing it. And that's very psychological, and I realize I've never brought that up before so thank you for speaking about it. I hope all that made sense._

* * *

_XXV. So I hit my low, but little did I know that would not be the end/From the holland road well I rose and I rose, and I paid less time/To your callous mind, and I wished you well as you cut me down_

Calla stood behind Azog, wishing to press against him and draw as much comfort to her quivering soul as she could, but even she knew in this moment she could not afford to appear weak. And so she stood behind Azog large pale body and stared at the grotesque orc that stepped forward as their leader.

**"Azog," **the orc greeted, the deep defiguring scars stretching on his face as he spoke. **"It has been many years." **

Azog nodded in greeting. **"Lug,"** was all he said as a reluctant hello. **"What has brought you to my camp?"** There was no welcome in his pale eyes, no happiness whether small or hidden anywhere on his face; this was not a pleasant meeting.

Lug smiled savagely. **"A scout spotted your small,"** he looked around their camp with an unimpressed face, **"party,"** he finished. **"I have many mouths to feed, as you can see, and thought perhaps you might be of the mood to share."** He knew Azog wouldn't, he was as prideful as he was pale and terrible; and in a fair fight Azog would have him beat and they both knew it. But it would not be a fair fight, that they both knew as well. And as much pride as Azog had, Lug knew he would risk dying at such a low cost.

**"But of course,"** Azog said as though he were being gracious, but his eyes - hard and cold and full of fury - offered little more than ill comings.

His smile was smug as he bowed his head slightly, as much respect as he was willing to give to Azog; and then he looked to the woman behind him, her pretty face and lovely eyes though he could not see the shape of her body he thought it would be just as enticing as her face. A dark chuckle sounded deep in his chest when Azog moved to hide more of her from his sight; this one meant something to him, and Lug wanted her. **"I have brought you a gift,"** he said pleasantly, watching as Azog's already guarded eyes grew more suspicious.

Azog watched Lug wave a hand and then he saw an orc holding a chain leading a naked young woman to him, and he understood what he was to do. It was then that Calla looked at the many orcs and saw several orcs holding chained women, all of them as expressionless as the one now in front of them. The woman had blonde hair, well kept as though the orcs kept her clean, and she was very thin - her breasts small and her ribs outlined in her skin. And staring at the woman, seeing her dead eyes and the small thin scars that lined her body as though from a whip, Calla too knew what Azog was to do as well.

**"I hope you like her,"** Lug said coyly, coming to stand beside her.** "I chose her specifically for you, I know how you like the pretty ones."** He smiled cruely, his eyes moving to the dark haired woman behind Azog before looking to his blonde woman. **"On your knees,"** he commanded, one of the few she knew. Lug looked to Azog with a small smile. **"Have her, please,"** he said as though he were being kind, **"so she may** **see," **he said pointing to the dark haired woman.

Azog looked at him dangerously, but they both knew he would not refuse; though Azog greatly wished to. He moved behind the woman and got to his knees, lifting his loincloth and taking her. In all honestly he felt no desire, if Lug were to take the woman so he could not finish it wouldn't bother him - he was only half hardened as it was. His eyes flicked to Calla's, seeing Lug had moved to stand nearer and Yazneg had put himself between, and the hatred and shock and anger he thought would shine in her eyes was not there; there was only understanding, and behind that pain. He sped up his movements, slamming the woman's hips hard onto his until he came with a long deep groan, and with a breath he pushed her away from him and got to his feet. **"Thank you,"** he said blandly, all the proof he hadn't wanted her evident in his voice.

Lug tore his eyes away from the dark haired woman; he had been right, even in a dress he could see the curve of her breasts and the spanse of her hips - curves which had grown and rounded after having her son - he could see why Azog had shown her favor, she was ravishing. **"But of course,"** Lug told him. **"She is yours until we part ways. I know you will enjoy her often, she is very pretty. Though I must admit she is nothing compared to this one,"** he said turning hot eyes to Calla, the proof of his desire for her burning in his eyes. But Azog's large pale body quickly shrouded his view of her.

**"I will have her as I wish,"** Azog assured him, knowing he would have to take her often for Lug would be listening for it; and Azog must ensure that he did not discover how much he cared for Calla. **"Thank you. You may whatever you desire, what's mine is yours."** Azog did not specify that Calla was not to be shared, but the look in his pale eyes was dark enough that Lug understood without the words being spoken. With a hand on Calla's back and a hand holding the woman's chain he led them both to the tent - all eyes trained on them as they went.

**"I want you to stay here,"** he told her softly, his words quick and his eyes trained over his shoulder as though someone were watching. **"Do not come out unless I tell you."** He bent down to whisper in her ear. **"Do not let them know you understand them,"** he bade her quietly so only she would hear, touching briefly and secretly as though the woman were a spy and he quickly returned to his orcs.

Calla was now alone in the tent, petting Daisy who was sitting relieved as she licked Calla - having been told to stay by both her and Azog. The pups were eagerly crawling toward the woman and her new smell and she looked at them warily. "They will not hurt you," Calla assured her, having thought a moment before speaking in the common tongue. The woman's eyes shot to hers mistrustfully, hatred and loathing in her eyes startling Calla. "Do you have a name?" she asked gently though the woman did no more than shake her head and look down, either refusing to answer or not being able to. "Can you speak?"

Once more the hateful eyes met Calla's kind blue ones, and she gasped when the woman opened her mouth. They both looked up at the sound of someone approaching and Calla sighed relieved when she saw it was Yazneg. He opened his mouth to speak but he looked quickly to the yellow haired girl before turning to Calla. "Are you alright?" he asked in the human tongue, being smart enough to realize it would be best for them to think she did not know their language; as well as being smart enough not to trust the woman. "Who are you?" he demanded harshly, receiving a hard look from Calla. The woman did not answer, she also did not glare at him for he was an orc and she had been trained well. "Does she not speak?" he asked Calla.

Calla looked at her lap. "They cut out her tongue," she said softly, tears springing to her eyes at the thought of the pain the woman had gone through; of the thought that that might have been her own life had Azog not taken a liking to her.

Yazneg looked at her uncomfortably, never sure what he was supposed to do when she was upset; so he sat beside her quietly, waiting until the tears left her eyes. "Lug does not like their screams, he says they irritate him," Yazneg told her gently.

Calla nodded, though she would never understand such cruelty. "I suppose there is no way he would let her stay with us when they leave," she said shocking the woman with her words. Calla looked up at Yazneg when he said nothing and she saw in his eyes why not. "He would ask for me in return."

"He already has," Yazneg told her, remembering Azog's livid face and twitching mouth before he ground out his refusal. "Azog would have killed him then if his numbers were not so great. It would be a slaughter, one not even he could win."

"How does he know Azog?" she asked, the question that had been burning her mind since the orc Lug had greated Azog by name.

"Lug used to be Azog's second, but he wanted to roam past the Mountains where Azog did not. So Lug left, taking half our numbers with him; though he has recruited more orcs in his ranks," Yazneg answered her, hating the orc and that he was back, knowing he had specifically come looking for Azog.

Calla sat thinking hard, realizing Lug must have come back for Azog for a purpose. "He wants to take Azog's place," she whispered, knowing it was true from the way his eyes had looked at him.

Yazneg nodded, having feared the same. "He had never been satsfied doing as Azog ordered, he challenged him often but our loyalty was to Azog and so Lug lost every time. I do not believe that is how this will unfold," he told her gravely, wishing he could say anything less forboding but having nothing.

Calla took a breath as she thought. "So Lug plans to remove Azog as the leader," she said trying to figure it all out. "He wants the orcs under Azog's command."

"And you," Yazneg said making her turn to him with surprised eyes. "Lug knows you mean something to him, and you truly are very beautiful. He may want you now most of all, if not only to take you from Azog."

Calla looked away as her mind raced, her skin crawling as she thought of Lug touching her in any way. And she was not sure Azog could refuse if Lug were to demand raping her, for as Yazneg said their numbers were greater and it would be a slaughter. "How does Lug plan to become your new leader?" she asked, praying he would not say what she feared he would.

Her prayers were unheard. "He will kill him."

* * *

_song is Holland Road by Mumford and Sons. _

_So as another warning, either next chapter or the one after will have a particularly rough scene; however I will say this now, I will not do a strictly rape scene just cause I don't want to and Azog wouldn't stand for that. However, it won't be pleasant. And that's all I'll say and I'll leave the suspense on that one. And poor Azog is being forced to rape a girl he doesn't even want to, and he'll have to several more times to please Lug. (Lug was the name of a not well known orc in the Similarion, it's not the same orc I just don't know how to come up with orc names) Also with Azog and Lug, they were like "brothers" in a sense, they were close enough that Azog trusted him to be his second. And then Lug decided he wanted to overthrow Azog and that didn't work so he left with half his orcs. So there's a lot of hurt and anger between them and I think it shows in this chapter, and it'll definitely show in the next chapter. So please tell me what you think, and I am always welcome to suggestions._


	26. heard the old man in the sea

_PS: it is probably best to brace, cause it's not horribly pleasant. They probably don't keep very many woman anyway, and because they now like Calla they would keep them where she wouldn't see them cause it would upset her._

* * *

_XXVI. Watching me, wanting me/I can feel you pull me down/Saving me, raping me, watching me_

Azog did not return to the tent until hours after the sun had gone down, when many of the orcs were sleeping and even then he did not stay for long. **"I have to go back,"** he said softly by her ear, holding her in the dark tent knowing they would not be seen for no flame was lit as it normally was.

**"You cannot stay?"**she mumbled nearly inaudible, wishing for him to be far from Lug should he decide to kill Azog as he slept - a cowardice way, a way an orc was not likely to choose, but she feared it all the same.

He shook his head, reluctantly unwinding his arms from around her. **"I cannot risk him turning more against me,"** he told her softly, knowing what she feared for it worried him too.

She sighed unhappily at what she said next. **"You should take her,"** she told him, wanting to say anything but what she just did.

He looked down at her surprised, laying with the woman the farthest thing from his mind. But she was right, if he did not care for her then it would be strange of him to visit her in the night - unless he had come to the tent to rape the yellow haired woman. She got down on her hands and knees the moment he walked to her and he knelt behind her, now faced with the problem of not wanting to; the evidence being in his limp flesh. In all truth Calla had spoiled him, with her lovely body and round breasts and soft skin that he had craved to squeeze and hold against him - this woman was thin and sharp, she was not Calla and he did not want her.

Calla saw this, it was so clear to her when he turned to her that she nearly smiled at his inability to lay with the other woman; it warmed her, touched her heart, to see he did truly love her. But Lug could not know that, and so Azog must bed the woman whether either Azog or Calla wanted him to or not. And so even though it hurt her that another woman would feel him inside her, she moved to him and sat on her knees beside him. The woman turned her head to look behind her and Calla barked, "Do not take your eyes from the tent in front of you," in such a hard commanding voice that the woman complied immediately. It was as unkind as Calla had ever been, but she held little care for the woman Azog would lay with when it was not her herself he would move inside.

Azog's brow knitted as he looked at her, wondering what she was doing as she turned him to her; though it was apparent when she laid her body out with her head on his legs, and he stiffened in seconds as he spread his legs around her realizing what would come.

Several times before had Calla taken him in her mouth, leaving him moaning and crying out vulnerable and completely submissive in the palm of her hand. He had never felt such pure ecstasy as when her throat constricted around his head, her tongue rough and stroking as she sucked, her teeth dragging against his flesh, her hands between his legs kneeding his thighs or sack, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came hard and long in her succulent mouth.

That was not this night, for though the woman could not speak there were other ways of telling; and Calla pleasured him enough to make him need to find a release. The woman sat on her hands and knees, listening as the large orc released a chocked groan and his breathing deepened; knowing the woman was doing something to him to make him ready. And then he grabbed her hips and jerked them toward him, impaling her violently leaving her tongueless mouth wanting to cry out in pain from his girth. But she staid still and quiet as he pounded into her, feeling his need and desire for the dark haired woman in his thrusts and hearing them in his moans. She had been whipped enough to know to do as she was told, so she kept her eyes on the tent and wondered what slowed his hips and had him nearly crying out - wondering what she was doing to provoke those sounds.

Azog opened his mouth for her tongue moaning as her hand moved down his stomach and between his legs, stroking and squeezing around the base of manhood, and his hips jerked violently as a hive buzzed beneath his skin. He came growling deep in his throat, Calla feeling the vibration on her tongue as she fought with his, and she released her hold on him as he leaned his head against her chest breathing deeply.

**"You should go,"** she said softly, greatly wishing he wouldn't; now that he'd obviously found a release there was no reason for him to stay, none but her and Lug could not see that. And so Azog stood on almost shaky legs, knowing she was aroused and would find no release for many days to come until Lug left, and reluctantly he left her to lay aching and in need. And ache she did. She only ever pleased him with her mouth when she did not want to lay with him, for it left her half crazed with lust from how desperate he became at the whims of her mouth. And so she settled on her back wanting Azog inside her as he had not been in over a week, something she wondered when he would be again and it only made her burn more.

Calla looked over surprised when the woman crawled next to her, laying on her side pressed against her. Out of shock Calla did not register what the woman was doing until she had one of her nipples between her lips and a hand between her legs, her teeth nipping and her lips sucking, her fingers taking the place of a man and her thumb stroking her bud making her gasp. Within moments Calla was writhing on the ground, her chest heaving as she fought to keep quiet, her release building until it overflowered and her body shuddered as the woman's fingers curled within her. And then she was gone, the woman turning away on her side leaving Calla breathless and in shock at what had just occured - at the amount of pleasure she had just felt, at how satisfied she was so that sleep came easier as she turned to bury her burning face in Daisy's fur.

The blonde woman did not fall asleep immediately, there was too much on her mind; never before had she seen, or heard, anything like she had that night - a woman pleasing an orc willingly, being treated kindly by the orcs of her pack. It was baffaling and enraging for her own mistreatment, and then a thought came to her and it all became too obvious - the large pale orc loved the dark haired woman, and from the looks of her face she loved him too. How strange, she thought, and so human a thing; this was something Lug would want to know, he had told her to find a weakness in the pale orc named Azog and to come and tell him - or in her case write it. But she remembered the dark haired woman's words to the other orc, _I don't suppose there is any way he would let her stay with us when they leave,_ such kindness in her, such goodness. If she were to lie then she would be killed, in a horrid way that would make her scream for she had seen several women killed in such a manner, and so she would tell Lug; she had to, for it was the only way for her to survive even if the dark haired woman did not. And it was so clear Lug wanted her, to see the pale orc had her had Lug craving her all the more; and he would show her no love, no kindness, he would rape her and then whip her. It was thinking those thoughts, of the pretty dark haired woman younger than herself naked and screaming as she was whipped relentlessly, that had her curling in on herself in shame and turmoil not knowing what to do.

...

Azog did not come to the tent but to lay with his slave, and many times he brought her out and took her in front of the others; but Calla always touched him first, making him stiff and in need with her hands or mouth before he would lay with the woman. It never grew easier to see, and Lug always ensured she was at his side when Azog was on his knees in front of them all; not many of the orcs besides Lug payed Azog any mind, rape being nothing new or exciting, though most all of them were watching Calla - whether Azog's orcs to see how she was fairing, it getting under their skin to see Lug so near her and taking her apart with his eyes, or Lug's orcs who wished tear her dress off and watch as they all raped her. It was days of this, turning to more than a week, and Azog and his orcs were all waiting for Lug to leave, but he did not seem to have plan of leaving anytime soon.

Lug coaxed Azog to go on a raid with him, for old time's sake, and with many of his orcs Azog agreed and he saw just how cruel and vicious Lug had become. People he tore apart, women he devoured, and never was he satisfied for he wanted it all. And Azog's chest constricted when Lug's eyes turned to Calla, his dark beady eyes raping her as he licked his lips, and it nearly hurt Azog to imagine what would happen to her should Lug kill him. It was nothing compared to Calla's fear, for many a time Lug would touch her while Azog took the blonde woman, a hand on her back or cupping her bottom or once even in her breast; and the desire, and dangerous threat lay in his eyes when they met hers. She was terrified of him. So fearful of him were all of Azog's orcs, for they would not receive kind treatment from Lug for staying with Azog, that not a single one of them spoke of Calla being Azog's mate - only an object of sex. And no one dared tell Lug of Bolg, who stayed with the two orcs hidden far in a mass of trees protecting Azog's heir.

Most of the time Calla remained in the tent with Daisy, caring for the pups before they were old enough to train and then it was only Daisy to keep her company. The blonde woman would not look at her, would not even acknowledge her when Calla asked her anything not even when she offered food. Calla could not blame her, not when the woman was left bare for all the world to see, her tongue cut from her mouth so they could rape her in silence, not with the scars all over her body from a whip; not when the worst Calla had been through was an orc trying and failing to rape her, and Azog loving her - though that was the best thing that had happened, for she loved him greatly in return. But never would Calla have imagined that the woman did not look at her out of guilt, not until one evening late into the night when the woman slipped out of the tent, her waking Daisy who in turn sat up silently and woke Calla. In her sleepy mind Calla only found it strange, alarm bells tolling only faintly enough to keep her awake after she laid back down. But she felt Daisy stiffen, and her heart began a ferocious pounding in her chest when her white warg made no sound - Azog having already come earlier - and it filled her with more horror when Daisy slipped her way further into the shadows.

Her breathing cut short at the feel of a blade digging into the skin of her throat. **"Make a sound and I kill you,"** Lug said quietly, she hadn't even heard him, and she wondered if he had slipped into the tent long before she'd woken or if he had moved quiet enough to have come in without her knowing.

She dared not move, every intake of breath pushing her neck further against his blade, and she felt him settle on her waist heavy and terrifying as she thought of what was to come. In that moment, fear climbing inside her heart and winding in its flesh, she did not know whether Azog would risk defying Lug by saving her - if by doing so would cause a war, one Azog could not win - and she did not know what Lug planned to do with her. The unknowing kept her stock still in fear as Lug traced her body with his hand, pulling off her dress as he went until she was completely bare.

**"Oh what a treasure Azog has found in you,"** he breathed as he took in her body in the dim light; no bones stuck sharply out of her skin, emotion was laced in every beat of her heart - the fact that life still was seen in her eyes was proof Azog cared for her, for she was content in living unlike many of the women Lug kept for his orcs. It was in that, her very essence of being, that made her so appealing; she was a flame and the orcs moths, they were drawn to her. And Lug was straddling her naked body, holding her immobile and silent so that he may do as he pleased. And there was so very much he wished to do to her.

* * *

_song is Haunted by Evanescence_

_I guess I have nothing else to say but the unpleasantness is next chapter; however, I still don't do strictly rape so rest assured on that. _


	27. and the silver fish, she cried

_So a lot of people would like Bolg to kill Lug, including myself; however, he's still very young (like, two or three) and is being hidden out of safety. So it can't be Bolg, maybe in a few years it could have been (and it still may be, cause something might happen in a few years) but not at this point in time. However, I will say you will all be very pleased in what will happen. Also, I'm not sure if I said this in the story, but Azog isn't in a position where he can do anything to Lug. Lug's numbers are double Azog's, and though Azog could kill Lug he's not strong enough to kill all of the other orcs before they attacked him. So he's kind of stuck playing nice, for the moment in time as you see in this chapter. Just as a further clarification so no one is like, why are you letting this happen Azog - it's cause he has no choice, and it is really KILLING him that he can do nothing. _

_PS: thanks for still reading. It gets better next chapter I swear.  
song is Terrible Love by the National_

* * *

_XXVII. It's a terrible love and I'm walking with spiders/it's a terrible love and I'm walking in/It takes an ocean not to break/it takes an ocean not to break_

Hearing a growl and feeling a strong bite on his arm Azog woke with start to see Daisy looking back at him, whining slightly as she pawed at him. It took but a moment before Azog was on his feet, knowing that something was wrong for Daisy would not have left Calla otherwise; however when he looked to where Lug had been sleeping he saw his dark shape, and so it made no sense. Until it did. With a small gasp Azog had the woman by the hair, laying under a dark hide to look like an orc, and was stalking to the tent. So quick and sure was he in his movements that he was in the tent throwing the girl on the ground and having Lug by his throat all before Lug even knew he was there.

Calla breathed a sigh of relief at seeing Azog, her breasts sore and aching from Lug's hands and teeth, and she quickly blinked away the tears that had formed at seeing him and moved to stand behind Azog; knowing she could only afford strength before Lug's eyes. The blonde woman was crumpled on the ground, tears streaming down her face, and it was then Calla realized she had betrayed them. And it was upon seeing Daisy walking back into the tent that she realized her warg had left to get Azog, and he had come before Lug had moved lower than her breasts on her body. She stood with her back straight and her chin level, bare as the day she was born, though it did not show on her face or in her eyes; all the blonde woman or Lug could see looking at her was strength - and that was exactly as she wanted it.

**"I had no idea how lovely she truly was,"** Lug said smirking cruelly, his voice strained from Azog's hand on his throat. **"You have kept her to yourself, I now see why."**

Azog's face was stone cold and pale, offering no forgiveness as he glared furiously. **"She was not yours to have,"** he growled dangerously.

Lug gave a choked laugh. **"I had not the chance to have her before you came,"** he wheezed, unafraid Azog would kill him, watching closely for even a tiny glimmer of relief though he did not see it for Azog hid it well. And so Lug tried another way, wanting now more than ever after feeling her body beneath him and tasting her breasts to have her now that he was stiff and in need. He smiled at Azog. **"Do you remember the women we would take as we raided villages?"** he asked, his smile growing as Azog loosened his hand around his throat. **"We would fuck them together, and we made them scream,"** he hummed victoriously, knowing he would have what he wanted in some way.

Azog remembered this, feeling shame flood through him at Calla hearing this. **"She responds better to pleasure,"** he told Lug, knowing he may have to give more than he wanted; realizing he might have to give her and wondering for what reason he would refuse.

**"You pleasure her?"** Lug asked baffled, having never heard of such a thing.

Azog could see in the other orc's eyes that he had already decided she would be his - and upon feeling Calla's hand small and unseen on his back Azog knew she'd seen it too, and it nearly shattered him that she was telling him without words that she would do this. And it broke him even more to know from this he could not shield her, and so he began thinking of how to make what would happen as easy for her as possible. **"Yes, and often,"** Azog told him, his voice arrogant though his chest ached.

Lug's eyes narrowed as he looked between Azog and the woman. **"Why?"** he demanded, wanting to catch Azog off guard so he would reveal his true feelings for the girl.

And Azog was caught off guard but he dared not let it show, in this Lug would not have victory. **"To turn a woman against herself with the wants of her own body, the greatest torture,"** Azog answered him darkly, watching a spark light in Lug's eyes at the thought. **"To have her screaming in need beneath you, to feel her as she comes. The self hatred, the pain it causes her to know that she enjoys being fucked." **Lug was smiling viciously as he looked at Calla, and Azog smiled too though his fell the moment Lug's eyes were off him. He knew what was coming and he wondered if Calla did as well, if she was prepared for it; if he was prepared for it.

The wheels of his mind were turning. **"What have you found pleases her?"**

And there it was, if Calla did not what was to come she did then; and it quickened Azog heart with rage and dread at knowing he could not yet refuse. Lug's numbers were still too great, and though some still felt loyalty to Azog - seeing his treatment of his orcs was better than Lug's - it was not be enough to make a difference should a battle be waged. And so he was forced to answer. **"A mouth between her legs has her writhing in minutes,"** Azog told him with a malicious voice as though he found pleasure in it.

Lug's brows raised at the thought, of how delicious he could only imagine she was. **"May I?"** he asked, allowing Azog to have the power of saying no but not the ability.

Azog paused, noticably, knowing this would hurt her; it would be unbearable for them both, but her especially. It may have been alright had he been the one, but in the end it was to be Lug. And Azog was forced to stand behind and look into Calla's shining eyes as Lug moved his mouth between her legs; and in that moment his heart broke.

...

Calla laid with her face buried against Daisy as she cried, feeling shame and hurt and a hatred so hot she could feel it blackening her soul. Never before had she wished to kill a person as much as she wished to kill Lug; she wanted to cut his cock off and shove it down his throat until he choked on it. She had hated every second Lug was between her legs, feeling his tongue touching her in places only Azog had, only Azog ever should. And despite herself she had grown wet, felt a release building though she did not want it, and it made it all but impossible not to cry. She had felt dirty, a whore, at being pleased by such a vulgar creature as he.

**"Do not let her finish,"** Azog had told him roughly. **"Leave her wanting more,"** was his reason when Lug looked up at him irritably. He had enjoyed himself, she had felt him smile when he first tasted her wetness and knowing he'd aroused her, had felt him smile when her breathing hitched as her body betrayed her. And all the while she stared at Azog's pained eyes as he looked back helplessly.

**"When do I get more?"** Lug demanded, his suspicions growing as to why Azog would not let him have her - though he was hard and throbbing with need and wanted to take her roughly. And it had Calla nearly shivering at the thought of him inside her, something she did not think she could do, nor did she think Azog would allow it and she was not wrong.

Azog looked at him dangerously. **"Do not forget she is mine,"** he warned roughly. **"In that I do not share."** But even then Azog knew Lug would not be satisfied, may even return and hurt her worse; there really was no other way, Calla knew. And so she allowed Azog to sit her on his lap, entering her as he hadn't in weeks, facing his legs as he laid staring at her back. He had been forced to watch as Calla took Lug in her mouth, hating that she was being forced to do this and hating more he could not keep her from it. Lug had choked and groaned at the feel of her tongue around him, and as Azog had the first time she had wrapped her lips around him Lug came in seconds from the sheer pleasure her mouth could give. And so Azog pulled her to him and flipped them so he took her on her belly, hearing her soft moan as he thrusted; he was finally inside her, finally taking her as he had only wanted to, and no matter the circumstance he could never resist her. **"Forgive me,"** he breathed softly in her ear, her fingers winding around his as she gave him her forgiveness and they continued losing themselves in each other.

Lug had watched them enraptured, Azog unable to hide how he cared for her in the way he laid with her, hearing from her moans she was enjoying him immensely. She had come before he did, her sweet voice deepened and raw as she moaned, and he followed shortly after with a deep growl and a final jerk of his hips. And then they left and Calla was alone with the remnants of her pleasure fading only to give way to the utmost shame and she began to cry.

...

She had not understood how hard it was for Azog to take the blonde woman, who Calla hated almost as greatly as Lug, had not understood that Azog might have loathed himself for enjoying it. At least not until the days that followed, for now Lug had felt the wonders of a woman's mouth he wanted it constantly. She could bear it, Azog had given her enough strength that she could take Lug in her mouth and stroke him with her tongue as he pulled her hair and thrusted in her mouth - and it was all she could do not to smile as she thought of biting him, of severing him from his manhood and imaging the shrill screams of pain he'd give as she laughed with blood dripping out of her mouth and down her chin. But she never did, she let him nearly tear her hair out and choke her and gag her as he pushed further down her throat. But she took it, for if not her mouth then he would demand to lay with her - and that she was unsure she was strong enough to do.

She grew to hate it, even the thought of Azog in her mouth repulsed her; and he did not ask for her to, he would never ask her to do that again. She did nothing more than stroke him with her hand to ready him to take the blonde woman - who Lug had warned not to kill, for she was not his. And so Azog left her to live, hurting her in every way he could think of, nearly tearing her nipple off before Calla stopped him. He could not bear it, it filled him with too much fury and loathing and pain and desperation to know Calla was being forced on her knees to take Lug, and he spoke with Lug's orcs - the ones who used to live under Azog's leadership many years ago- and learned they were unhappy with how Lug treated them. Most of the time they were starving, for food or desire; Lug favored the orcs he'd recuited from over the Mountains, if he did not need their numbers he would have killed all the orcs he had taken from Azog. And it was there, that a plan was formed; for Azog's numbers were half of Lug's with all of his orcs, but many were divided onto who loyalty should stand. For though Azog was cruel and horrid, he did not thrive off of pain as Lug did - Lug reveled in it, be it his slaves or his orcs. And it was then that the hope of Lug leaving was found, whether he left by flight or death it mattered not; he would soon be gotten rid of, and it sent an excitement through Azog's orcs, new and old, as they waited for Azog to act first so they may follow.

But Azog did not act first, Lug did, and he started with Calla. She got on her knees when he entered the tent and stood before her, staring up at him blankly as she waited for him to remove his cloth. His smile was strange and awful on his ugly scarred face and she knew immediately something was wrong, and she was proven right when he pulled her to her feet and tore her dress off leaving her bare and her heart racing in a fear she did not let show.

**"Azog has forbidden me taking you,"** he told her, his unhappiness with that clear in his eyes and voice. **"And I do believe,"** he said conversationally as he got to his knees before her, still clothed, **"he would kill me if I did. But you see, I now have other ways of hurting you,"** he said with a half crazed smile as he chuckled lightly, pulling her closer. He grabbed her leg and threw it over his shoulder, forcing her to balance on only one leg which had her unwillingly leaning on him as she tried not to fall. Her heart came to a stop when she felt the chill of his dagger sliding in the folds between her legs. **"Should you scream to alert him, or even moan unintentionally as I pleasure you,"** he warned leaving the rest to hang over her head, his breath warm on the inside of her thigh, the threat clear as he dragged the tip of his dagger gently down her leg making her shiver. **"I know you understand me,"** he told her darkly, his eyes dangerous and terrifying so that she could not catch her breath. She flinched when he moved, stabbing his weapon into the ground before hoisting her leg higher up on his shoulder so that she was over his mouth.

It was in this way he hurt her, leaving her only one leg to stand on as his mouth moved beneath her. She willed every ounce of good feeling away, not allowing for enjoyment. But she had no control over this, as he had learned many nights previous when he'd first tasted her, and he swirled his tongue inside her as he sucked hard, hearing from her gasp it had been a pleasant feeling. He pulled her closer, moving his shoulder under her other leg until she was left with only the tips of her toes on the ground, forcing her to hold onto him, to cling to him as she shook from strain and averse enjoyment that he knew was destroying her. He continued on in this way, enjoying the taste of her as she grew wet, and he waited until he felt her hips buck against him - knowing her body was close to a release whether or not her weak human heart was. She gasped in shock when he let go of her and she fell back, her ears ringing from how hard her head hit the ground, and then he was on her. With a hand over her mouth he took her, holding her struggling wrists in his hand as she tried to fight him and withstanding her teeth tearing at his skin so she could call for Azog, though her body had betrayed her and she was shuddering in seconds. For the first time since he'd laid on eyes on her he saw her weakness, her humanness, as her eyes filled with tears; and with a dark laugh he stood and bent his slave over before finishing inside her. And then he left, knowing Azog's dark haired little pet wouldn't tell him he'd taken her, not when he had brought her to a release.

But oh how he was wrong, for he never accounted their love. And so when Azog saw Lug walking out of the tent, a smug satisfaction on his face, he immediately went to Calla to find her naked and crying. Her dress was ruined, and she had no others, so Azog did nothing more than pull her to his chest and held her; he knew what had happened, he knew from the deep way she cried that she was ashamed of herself, and he knew from her nakedness it was because Lug had pleasured her. A dark loathing filled him as she shook against him, a hatred so black his soul nearly burst into flames. He looked down at Calla once her tears had reduced to sniffing, and he kissed her gently before he stood. Grabbing his mace Azog charged from the tent and yelled for Lug, who turned and stared at Azog with wide fearful eyes as the pale orc descended on him. Though Lug's fear turned to a dark glee as Azog was struck from behind, his pale eyes wide looking down at a sword coming out of his side.


	28. never forget had gone and died

_XXVIII. So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light/Cause oh it gave me such a fright/But I will hold as long as you like/Just promise me we'll be alright_

A moment. Only a short, spare moment did Azog take before swinging his mace and killing the orc who'd stabbed him. And that was the action that set forth all that happened next. All of the orcs Lug had gathered over the Mountain swarmed toward Azog, their weapons raised high as they prepared to kill him only for the pale orc to hold out his mace and take them all out in one fell spin - and yet more came. As large as Azog was, as strong, as fueled by the rage of Calla being hurt as he was, the numbers were too great for him alone. If not for Yazneg, who had seen not only Azog leaving the tent but Lug leaving it before, whose quick action of leaping to his leader's side, Azog would have fallen. But Yazneg's charge had all of Azog's orc rallying to him - even those who had left Azog years before - and together they tore Lug's orcs apart.

All sadness, all shame and self loathing was gone from Calla as the noise of battle grew; shrieks and squeals, screams and groans, the clear sound of Azog roaring. The blonde woman cowered in the corner, flinching with every sound, looking up at Calla with large terrified eyes. Calla felt nothing for the woman, no hatred, no pity - and that was the worst kind of feeling for if Azog had given her a sword and told her to kill the slave she would have and not even her heart would have flinched. No, Calla felt nothing as she looked at the woman, it was the sound of Azog so loud over all the others that made her heart beat as she stepped toward the tent flap. It was a massacre; orcs lay dead all around the ground and others fell to join them. But her eyes found what she was looking for, the large pale shape in the center of it all, and the shorter dark scarred orc still hiding behind his numbers.

Azog could barely feel any pain, the crude sword still in his back, but his crazed eyes were trained on Lug who was waiting for Azog to come or be killed - and like the coward Azog had started to realize he was, Lug stayed behind his wall of orcs. That did not deter Azog, if anything it filled him with a brighter rage. It was not until Azog came closer, flinging orcs aside with his mace, his scorching eyes piercing him, did Lug move; and he launched himself threw his dwindling number of orcs and at Azog, his own sword raised high. No fair chance did Lug have against Azog, but Lug did not fight fair - again Azog was struck from behind, a roar tearing from his throat at the burning pain of a sword slicing along his back. He turned and slammed his mace on the head of the orc before turning back to Lug, and he roared again when he felt the sword in his side pulled out. In a blinding rage he turned prepared to kill again but stopped in utter shock at the sight of Calla, as all the other orcs were. There was only a small few of Lug's orcs left breathing, and they stood still with Azog's orcs aiming their weapons at them; they knew they were beat, and so they turned to their leader to find him staring at the woman.

In Calla's small hands she held the sword that had pierced Azog, she stared up at him determinedly and he smiled at her - a wide cruel grin before he lunged at Lug surprising him, and holding his arms behind his back. Lug struggled against Azog's hold, trying to pull his arms out of his grasp to no avail; Azog wouldn't have let him go for anything in the world, not when Calla stood before them holding a sword and a dark desire in her beautiful eyes. Lug sneered at Calla, knowing she was too human to kill him - as did the other orcs, even Yazneg for he knew her goodness. But Azog knew, having held her and felt the pain Lug had caused in each wracking sob - Lug had destroyed all ounce of kindness she may have felt toward him, all mercy. And so she stood before Lug with nothing but hatred on her lovely face, and a bloody sword in her hand.

**"Did Azog tell you I killed a man for him?"** she asked him, her soft quiet voice audible in the now still silence as they strained to hear her. Lug may have smiled at being right in her able to understand their tongue if not for her words. **"He offered me freedom and I drove a sword through his heart,"** she told him with a small smile as though it pleased her, it did not but the small flash of fear in his eyes did. **"I suppose Azog has not told you of our son?"** she asked pleasantly, shocking Lug - for there it was for all the world to see, their love; it's proof being in not only an heir, but her still at Azog's side. **"A pity he is still a child, he would hurt you more than I could. I suppose I will just have to do my best."**

There were no conflicting morals, no battling between right and wrong, no humanity. Every orc's eye was on her as she pierced Lug with the sword, drawing it slowly in his chest so that he cried out in pain as she pushed it slowly into his jerking body, before it finally struck his heart and he was given peace in death.

Azog released his hold on Lug and let him fall in a heap to the ground, his eyes were on Calla's face as she stared up at him - a week before there would have been nothing but lust between them, a desire that burned so hot Calla would have pushed him to the ground and rode Azog in front of them all - something she had done before only once, much to the pleasure of the orcs as they watched her breasts jump from every thrust, at seeing the pleasure on her face, at hearing the pleasure in his growls and moans as she made him as weak as only she was able to. But on this day, staring into each other's eyes, they were tired; they missed laying together, not him taking her but laying wrapped in each other's arms as they slept, or even simply to be able to look at each other with warm eyes as they had been unable for weeks. And in all truth, Azog missed all this most.

He stepped to her, and holding her eyes he got down on his knees and wrapped his arms around her back as he laid his head over the swell of her warm breasts; his eyes closing when he felt her hands come around his head as she held him in return, breathing in tune with the rise and fall of her chest beneath his cheek. This was a baffling sight to all of Lug's orcs, to see an orc on his knees before a human - to see such caring between two such vastly different beings, and when one of them was a cruel pale giant that struck fear in their hearts. But Azog's orcs, the ones who had known Calla from the day Azog had found her, looked on with nothing more than morbid curiosity as they always did; seeing her unclothed was most uncommon, for she normally would not let Azog strip her when they laid beneath the stars, and seeing such tender caring was even more uncommon. But all of the orcs saw it for what it was, some realizing it then for the first time - a king only ever bowed before his queen.

He would have been content to stay that way for a long while more, but there were matters to take care of and so he reluctantly released her and got to his feet. All eyes were on him, his orcs watching him expectantly, and Lug's in anticipatory fear. There were but seven left of the orcs Azog did not know, and it was them he did not want. But instead of giving the order he looked down at Calla.

She stared up at him seeing he was waiting, and a small smile curled on her lips. **"Kill them,"** she ordered, never taking her eyes from his as she was obeyed. Azog's orcs had moved without hesitation and killed the orcs from over the Mountains; leaving Azog's former orcs amazed, for now it was even more apparent that Calla was no mere human among them.

It was proven all the more when Azog smiled down at her touching her cheek before looking out to them all, seeing his numbers were now larger - though he did not trust them all. **"Should any of you not wish to stay leave now,"** Azog said deeply. **"There will be no more fighting. Any and all who do will be killed immediately."** He breathed as he waited, feeling the sharp pain in his side from the sword, and pride swelled in him when no orc even hestitated in consideration; they were his. He looked over his shoulder to see Calla still behind him as she waited for him, and he turned back to the orcs to see a spare few eyeing her. **"Is there any who wish to lie with her?"** he asked suddenly, surprising almost all of them. Azog reached behind him and pulled her in front of him so they could see her, her soft bare body warm and enticing in the sunlight. He looked down to see her gazing up at him wonderingly, but not in fear, and he smiled slightly. **"None of you?"** Azog asked, his tone sounding offended. **"Do not be shy, I will share her with you gladly. As a token for returning to my side,"** he told them pleasantly, his hand coming up and stroking one of her breasts as he waited to be answered.

Not many of Azog's former orcs trusted it, not only because they had known him but also because they had seen how he had held the woman on his knees - as though she were the very air he breathed. And so though they did wish to lay with her, they did not dare. But there were a few, a small few with dark greedy hearts who stepped forward hungrily. Azog smiled at them, what should have been their first warning, before he grabbed a sword and impaled an orc making him shriek as Azog flung him away from him. **"Would you like to?" **he asked, his voice gentler only slightly as he looked down at Calla.

She smiled before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. **"I do not wish to get my hands dirty,"** she told him making him chuckle.

And so Azog held his hand out to Yazneg and took his dagger before cutting the cocks off the last three orcs leaving them moaning softly unable to make sounds beneath the weight of their pain as they bled out. **"Know it now,"** Azog roared. **"She is mine, and you all will obey her."** His eyes were fierce and his face hard and terrifying, and the former orcs knew then to never touch her. Azog looked down at the dying orcs, seeing them curled up as they tried to cradle their blood and keep it from leaving them, and a thought came to him - one that had been plaguing him for days. **"Bring me the slave." **

Calla looked upon the blonde woman who was now crying again, on her knees as Azog stood over her. **"What shall we do with her?"** he asked looking to Calla. **"Would you like to kill her?" **

**"Death would be a mercy for her," **Calla said staring at her, not a single ounce of humanity or goodness in her as she looked upon the woman who had been the cause of her pain.

Azog smirked pleased she thought so, for he wanted the woman to suffer - knowing it was she who had told Lug of his caring for Calla, knowing it was she who allowed Lug to hurt her. In all honesty he wanted to tear her apart, slowly, agonizingly. **"We could skin her?"** Azog offered making the woman whimper at the thought, for she would spend several long minutes, possibly hours, in a horrible pain that would never seem to end.

**"No,"** Calla said and Azog looked to her waiting for what she wanted - planning to give her anything so long it was not showing the woman kindness. But the wheels were turning in Calla's head, thoughts that sprung from Azog's darkness and the years she had spent witnessing it. The corners of her mouth curled when she came to the answer, of what would hurt the woman most. **"Every woman in this camp is to be released,"** Calla told them all, knowing Azog was letting her decide. **"Your only source of pleasure will be from this slave." **

Azog smiled as he moved to stand behind Calla, his hands on her waist as she continued, never loving her more than in that moment.

**"And you may all have her,"** she said to the delight of the orcs and the horror of the woman. **"But,"** she said loudly silencing their chittering, **"you must bring her to a release before you take her, each and every one of you." **Had Calla been an orc she would have smiled cruelly at the woman, but Calla was not an orc and so she hardly paid her any mind. **"Yazneg,"** she said gentler, looking upon her friend with kind eyes and a warm smile, **"would you like to show them?"**

Yazneg nearly grinned happily as he voraciously agreed, pushing the woman roughly on her back and moving his mouth between her legs - doing what he had seen Azog do to Calla a number of times. And what the woman learned, having seen Lug holding Calla as he brought her to a release, was that not wanting to be aroused meant nothing when her body recognized that it was a wondrous feeling; one she had never felt before. And with tears pouring out of her eyes she came moaning, a strange sound in her tongueless mouth, her legs twitching as her hips bucked. And then when Yazneg took her she came again, much to her shame and humiliation - feeling exactly what Calla had felt, only when Yazneg moved another orc took his place and forced her to another release.

But Calla had looked up at Azog, her eyes softer and not so dark, her warmth and gentleness returned and he led her back to the tent. **"Would you like me to,"**

**"No,"**she said immediately, cutting him off; and in all honesty his desire for her was small in that moment, and he wondered what would happen to hers now, if it would fade away or slowly return to her as her wounds healed.

He looked down at her, seeing her watching him and knowing she was looking for any sign he wanted to lay with her - knowing she would lay with him should he want to. **"What do you want?"** he asked, leaving it up to her once more.

She sighed, relief flooding through her eyes as her feelings began to swirl around her no longer pushed aside. Her answer was simple, and in all truth it was all he wanted as well. **"I want you to hold me."** And so he did.

* * *

_song is Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford and Sons_

_PS: it was a pretty mean cliff hanger. But I guess you know now what happened with Lug and his orcs. _


	29. and the babes that clung to her

_xxix. cold, cold water surrounds me now/and all I've got is your hand_

Calla spent most of the following days in the tent, curled beneath a blanket, curled against Daisy, or curled against Azog. He would have staid with her, would have held her all day and through the night until she could find it in herself to live again - but when the sun rose she knew he needed to be with the others, showing all the orcs he was their leader so that none of them would become like Lug. And even though she wanted him stay she knew it was not his place, and it was not hers to ask; so she laid alone or with Daisy as she breathed; and that was all she did, breathe.

She would have laid there much longer had Azog not sent Bolg, whom had been fetched and returned to the camp where all of Azog's previous orcs marveled at him – he had grown in the few weeks, his head to Azog's waist, though he was still slim as his muscles formed; but the promise of his terrible might was evident even then.

"**What do you want me to do?"** Bolg asked, his eyes downturned as he'd been taught – a show of respect for not only his leader but also his father.

Azog looked down at him, beginning to see the boy Calla loved so much. **"Make her smile,"** was all Azog told him.

And that's exactly what he did, for the moment Calla looked to see who had entered she sat up with a smile on her face. And Bolg, having not seen her in many days and still loving her with a child's heart, crawled onto her lap and leaned against her – forgetting the many times he was told it was weak, not seeing how holding his mother as tight as she held him could be anything other than great. As an orc, Bolg was not raised to know what the word love meant or any other equivalents, he did however know it's feeling – and it could only be found in his mother, therefore to him she set the sun and called it to rise; loving her in the purest way only a child could.

It was feeling that love, though he did not know the word or the meaning, that made her smile more. **"They said it wasn't safe,"** Bolg said, squeezing her tight around her back, burying his head in her chest.

Her head was bowed as she pressed a kiss to his temple, stroking the small light brown hairs that were growing – the only thing he seemed to inherit from her. **"It wasn't,"** she said softly.

He could hear the sadness in her voice, hear it weighing on her. **"Did one of the orcs hurt you, mother?"** he asked looking up at her, seeing the answer shining in her eyes. **"When I'm bigger no one will ever hurt you,"** he told her assuredly. **"I will cut the head off anyone who tries." **

Calla laughed shortly as she held him, loving him so much in that moment. She looked up to see Azog hunching by the entrance, having been listening – knowing he would do the same.

…

It was a few more days, of Bolg visiting her, of Azog coddling her – but he could not keep going this way, he knew she would never leave the tent if he did not tell her to.

"**What am I supposed to wear?"** she asked him when he told her to come outside with him, to watch as Bolg trained.

Azog merely looked at her. **"You could not wear anything,"** he offered as though it were obvious, for to him it was.

But Calla's wide eyes told him otherwise. **"I am not walking out there naked,"** she said almost mortified at the thought, forgetting completely she already had.

Azog rolled his eyes and growled as he moved away from her, itching to just pull her out of the tent. **"You will walk out of this tent wearing anything or not,"** he told her crossly, his voice firm and offering no leniency.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, it having been a long while since he'd yelled at her, and it shocked her – and hurt, for she needed him to be kind. **"But I have nothing to cover myself with,"** she said softly, all strength and pride had fled her now that Lug was dead.

Azog looked at her big eyes, seeing the sadness and the hurt that had been there for days, and he sighed, his shoulders drooping. **"I cannot live for you,"** he told her gently, which was exactly what Azog had been doing. **"Please,"** he whispered, begging her to come out of the tent with her.

How could she possibly say no? His eyes were as vulnerable as she'd ever seen them, his voice soft and tender as he tried to coax her back into life. And she loved him, if there was any question as to why it was this – he loved her too. And so she took his hand, though she wore nothing, though she was uncomfortable with the feeling of all their eyes on her as she walked beside Azog; she walked with him to where Bolg was being trained, and together they watched as their son was taught different ways to kill a creature, and she smiled as he continued to get it right.

"**You could finish sewing your pelt,"** Azog said as he watched Bolg, not looking down at her when she turned to him.

Calla stared up at him surprised, having all but forgotten it; and then she remembered why. **"You did not give me much to cover myself with,"** she told him, watching the corners of his mouth curl. **"You left out most of it didn't you?"** she asked turning to him fully, looking up at him incredulous.

He chuckled deeply as he placed a hand on her warm back. **"Just think,"** he said, his voice a growling rumble, **"we can lay together anytime we desire." **He watched as her smile fell, along with all her mirth, and he placed a hand under her chin. **"I will have you again,"** he told her. **"And it will not hurt you."** He had tried laying with her a few times, tried making her want it; but she didn't, it was as simple as at. And though there was nothing simple about why she did not want to lay with him, he knew it was because Lug had hurt her in some way – which she refused to speak of, no matter how he tried to make her tell him.

She tried to smile, to give him something of hope that she agreed, but he knew her too well and he saw through her leaving her nothing but to feel empty. And knowing the longer she refused him, without telling him why, without a reason, he would only grow more frustrated with her – and as warm as his eyes were, they were growing colder, harder; he was already losing patience, and he did not have much to give in the first place.

It was a week of this before what little patience he had gave out, a week of desiring her and having to please himself for she would not even touch let him touch in any way that was sensual. **"What did he do?"** Azog demanded one night, finally snapping as she pushed his hand off her leg.

"**I don't want," **

"**Answer me or spread your legs,"** he ordered roughly silencing her. He felt only the smallest twinges of regret at having yelled at her, at being so harsh when she was so vulnerable, but she was giving him no reason why she did not wish to lay with him other than she didn't want to; which left him needing her, and his pride hurt. **"What did he do?"** he asked again, his voice softer as he sat beside her in the dark tent.

She wanted to answer him, seeing he needed one, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth but no sound came out, and she could see it was hurting him that she couldn't tell him for to him she should – and the fact that she couldn't meant she did not trust him. Something that was entirely untrue but no words could she give him, and so his hurt grew.

He didn't know what to do, what to say, if he should force her and then she'd enjoy it again; but he knew he couldn't, for years he had been faced with her humanity, had grown to have a little bit of his own. **"He pleasured you**," Azog offered, seeing he would have to help her. He already knew the answer before she nodded, what he did not know was why it had hurt her so greatly. **"With his mouth,"** Azog continued and again she nodded. **"And then he brought you to a release."** It was simple in his mind, nothing so awful to him; but she did not nod to this, and it was then he realized something else had happened. **"What else?"** he asked gently, now almost afraid to hear what she would say.

Her eyes were filled with tears when she looked up at him. **"He,"** she stared but couldn't finish.

But Azog knew, there was nothing she would hate herself more for than coming with another man inside her – it was then he realized Lug had brought her to the edge and then took her, so even though it revolted her and made her sick that he was inside her, her body had needed it; just as Azog's had when Calla would touch him, so that he could take the slave.

Calla watched his eyes, which had been pained and shocked, grow cold with rage before he stalked out of the tent.

"**Yazneg,"** he bellowed, and Calla was on her feet and following him. Calla knew the moment she saw blonde hair what Azog wanted. **"You knew,"** he hissed, holding the slave by her chin off the ground. **"You knew he would hurt her, you watched him rape her,"** he roared, an utter silence falling over all of the camp at his words. The woman whimpered in fear and listened as Yazneg translated, having only understood a few of the words, realizing a horrible punishment would be given.

Azog heaved as he stared at her terrified eyes, not knowing what to do with her – death was a mercy, and there was no way he could hurt her to make right what she had done. She cried out when he threw her to the ground and she tried to crawl away but there many orc feet in her way, and looking up at the orcs she could see they were all livid with her – she had been the cause for their leader's mate being hurt, in an unforgivable way for no one else was to lay with Calla. They all hated her, wanted her dead, wanted her screaming.

"**Azog,"** Calla said touching his arm, recoiling when he black eyes turned sharply to her, and not moving back to him when they softened.

Azog stared at her, seeing it plain in her eyes she hated herself – thinking herself a whore, how he had not seen it before he did not know. **"Get me rope,"** he ordered, turning away from her. There was nothing to make this right, there were no words to express what now weighed unbearably heavy on his heart. He took the rope and grabbed a handful of the woman's hair before dragging her to a tree, tying her hands to a branch over her head so she was forced on the tips of her toes to keep her arms from stretching. **"You,"** he demanded roughly, pointing to an orc with broad shoulders. **"Take her,"** he told him, watching the orc smile cruelly. **"You,"** he pointed to another, his mind too clouded with rage and fury and pain to care who he was speaking to. **"Take her from behind."**

The two orcs laughed darkly before they took their places. Not a single orc wanted to give her pleasure, not any of them had a single ounce of pity or mercy for her – all they had was rage. Azog watched for a moment as the orc spread her legs around him, stretching her arms as her feet left the ground making her cry out, and then they both thrust in her wildly, filling her completely and nearly tearing both her womanhood and her behind, leaving her crying.

He turned to the rest of the orcs who were watching with glee. **"You are only to cause her pain, you will make her scream. Should she find any form of pleasure I will kill the orc who causes it,"** he told them, his voice a deep growl filled with his loathing. The orc behind her finished with a final rough thrust and he stepped away from her. **"Take his place," **Azog ordered to another orc, and he hastily complied as he grabbed her butt speared her making her scream. **"This is how she will be taken until I say,"** he told them. **"You will all have her, and when one finishes the next moves to take her. I want her unable to breathe from how much you are hurting her,"** he yelled, his voice deep and vicious over the woman's crying out as the orcs savagely took her.

Azog stood glaring at her, wishing nothing more than to kill her, but he would have her in pain – he would have her unable to live, as she had left Calla. He turned to Calla to see her staring up at him wide eyed in shock, having never seen him so cruel – having never been faced with it. He put a hand on her back and led her to the tent, pacing as much as he could in the small space as she sat and looked up at him.

"**Azog,"** she said softly and he held a hand up stopping short any other words.

He turned to her, his eyes pale and filled with pain; if he had been human he would have understood what his swollen eyes meant, what the hurting in his chest was, how his breathing was constricted and every heartbeat was more difficult than the next; he would have known that what he was doing was staving off tears, of shame and hatred, of pain and anguish. But he was an orc, and so he did not know what he was feeling. **"I let him hurt you,"** he said at last, and Calla took a breath at realizing why he was so upset.

"**No,"** she told him shaking her head, grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit by her.

"**I should have killed him the moment he first tried to have you,"** he told her, looking at her pitifully.

"**His orcs would have killed you,"** she told him, raising her hand to cup his cheek.

With a breath he grabbed her hand and leaned into her touch, failure weighing on his shoulders and breaking him as nothing ever had before. **"I did this,"** he whispered, knowing it was the truth, knowing because she loved him she wouldn't see it. But he did, he was an orc and not only that he was her mate, he should have killed Lug the moment he looked her; but he hadn't, because he had been afraid to die. He hadn't protected her, and so she'd been hurt; and there was no forgiveness for him, no hope of ever rectifying this mistake. At least not one he could find on his own, the only reprieve from his self hatred and guilt was found in her arms, was hidden in the sound of her heart as it beat softly in his ear as she held him.

* * *

_song is Cold Water by Damien Rice_

_PS: I'm glad you enjoyed the little moment, I mean after everything you'd really just wanna be held. And he really just wanted to hold her, no sex or loving, just holding her. _


	30. had all let her go

_XXX. In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die/and where you invest your love, you invest your life._

He didn't dare touch her in any way arousing for many days, simply holding her when he returned to the tent at night, allowing himself to be soothed into sleep by the feel of her in his arms. But as always his desire for her never waned, it returned and filled him with the need to have her beneath him writhing – but she was not ready. And the more days passed as he waited for her to want him inside her, the hotter his want for her grew. And it overflowed when he returned to the tent one night to see her wearing the pelt she'd finished.

After starting it a few days previous, he had been wondering what she would make out of the two pieces she'd given herself. But it was answered on that night, She'd formed one of the pieces and sewed it together to hang from her shoulders covering her breasts; the second she had made a belt around her waist and sewn two strips to cover her in the front and most of her backside. But she had been right, Azog had left her hardly enough to cover herself with, for even then he could see part of her breasts and most of her round bottom – and he loved it. He could have her on the ground and thrust inside her in seconds, no pulling up her dress or taking it off, just pushing her to the ground and having her.

"**Do you like it?"** she asked when she noticed him, looking down to smooth it out. She wasn't at all pleased with how little of her was actually covered, but it served its purpose, and the heat in Azog's eyes had her stomach fluttering as she nearly blushed.

He knelt in front of her as his eyes scoured over her body, seeing every bit of her flesh and feeling himself harden at the thought of her. He could merely push aside the top of the pelt to have her breasts bare before him, and it stayed as he moved his hands down to her hips to hold her legs. Though a look at her eyes and he stopped, breathless at the thought of laying with her, his chest heaving and his cock throbbing and hardened to full length. But that did not mean she was ready to want this as much as he did, and it was so clear in her eyes; though she did not refuse, she did not even push him away. She would have let him take her, a small chance she may have enjoyed it but he knew it was unlikely. And so he sighed as he righted the pelt over her breasts and laid back taking himself in his hand as he stared at her; no he would not force her, but he would make sure she knew just what it was she did to him.

And she did know, it was clear in the quick jerks of his hand as he pleased himself; in the sound of his grunts, the look in his eye as she laid beside him and kissed him.

Breathlessly he held her to him after he'd finished, running his hand along her back. **"I like it very much,"** he told her quietly making her smile. But he felt her smile quickly fall and he knew she was not happy.

"**I'm sorry,"** she whispered.

He pulled away and turned to her, seeing the sadness in her eyes and he nodded. **"I know,"** he said. **"One day again I will look at you and you will need me inside you, you will crave for me to make you scream," **he growled gently as he lightly tugged her hair.

His words quickened her heart, sent it to racing and she felt that she wanted him; and yet she didn't. She was aroused but the thought of him inside her only drew Lug to mind, and it made her ashamed and left her thinking she did not deserve to be pleased by Azog – not when Lug had pleasured her, which in her mind made her nothing more than a whore. And so she smiled softly at Azog, trying to give him hope that she would want it again though she was not sure if she would. And all he did was release her and turn on his side, proof that though he was being gentle and giving her time he was unhappy too.

And he wasn't happy, he was frustrated – with her, with himself. Calla had told him days before to release the slave from her punishment, not even caring to punish her any longer; but Azog did, for to him it was her fault, and so he'd had her whipped relentlessly until she could take no longer. But that did not satisfy him, nothing would. Nothing but Calla and she was not ready, for the moment he pleased her he knew everything would be alright.

But as the days passed he came to realize he might have to force her, at least to force her to let him touch her. But looking at her eyes as he made to lay with her, before she knew what he doing, he never could; there was such trust, such love and caring in her eyes that he did not want to ruin it. And so one night, when his own desire was clouding his thoughts and leaving him unable to find rest, he rolled her on back as she slept and moved between her legs.

He moved gently, flicking his tongue every so often, knowing if she was not aroused before she woke she would tell him to stop. And so he spent several long minutes before she grew wet and he smiled before he tasted her fully. She woke with a moan and even then he did not stop, he felt her hands on his head at first trying to pull him away but after a few seconds she laid back and gave into him. There was no teasing, no bringing her to the edge only to stop and leaving her wanting him; he brought her to a release, holding her hips as she shook, hearing her moans loud and beautiful as she came.

And then he did the most amazing thing she thought he'd ever done, he moved to lay beside her and he pleased himself. She wanted him to climb on top of her and take her, she wanted him inside her; and he knew she did, but he still didn't. And for the life of her she couldn't find the reason why, for many of the days that followed she welcomed his tongue against her, making her writhe as she moaned - she had even gone to take him in her mouth, the thought of it thrilling her, only for _him_ to say no. And she'd laid beside him and watched as he stroked himself, not taking her, not pleasing himself in her as she wanted him to - as she could clearly see he wanted to.

There was only one answer; guilt. He knew this was his fault, that she had been broken because he had allowed Lug to live after physically expressing his wants of her; as her mate Azog should have refused him, struck him, maybe killed him for daring to want her. Yet Azog had let him live, and so he waited. It was frustrating and painful, agonizing as he waited; putting him in a black mood where his orcs feared breathing too near him in the very real possibility Azog would severely punish them for it. He knew it would be easier to just take her, she wanted it - that much was clear to him - and they would start to ease back into their sense of normal. But he didn't, and finally after over a week of this, his waiting paid off.

Calla had come back to the tent when the sun began to go down, having finished her supper with Yazneg and a few others who had starting worming their way into her good graces, waiting for the next morn when Azog would return with his small party from raiding. It was a restless night, one that left her longing for him not only to hold her, but longing for the passion he ignited in her. Dawn could not come soon enough, and then she waited impatiently for them to return to camp; and as he hadn't in a long while, he gifted her with a spiked head, sealing every ounce of desire she could ever feel for him.

He practically threw her into the tent, loving her darkened eyes and her needy mouth, and he moved between her legs and made to please her. **"No,"** she told him pulling his head to her. He looked at her confused and let her move him, but he held her still when she pushed him to his back.

**"I will never ask that of you again,"** he told her, what he always told her, and she sighed irritably from the weight of her need.

She sat up on her knees and placed her hands on his chest, staring him hard in the eye. **"You do not have to ask,"** she told him lowly, setting a fire in his groin at her forcing her way. **"I will have you begging me for a release until you're nearly screaming my name."** She sat on top of him, pressed fully against him, feeling his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath her; seeing the lust in his eyes as he stared at her.

**"Not tonight,"** he told her.

**"No,"** she said with a half smile as she pushed him onto his back. **"Tonight you're going to fuck me."** And that was exactly what he did.

...

_one year later_

Azog pushed her shoulders straight and turned her gently, nudging one of her feet into place. She released her arrow and smiled pleased when it finally hit her target. For months she had been practising, Azog having had a bow constructed for her and her smaller weaker body; and it took a while before she learned the correct way in which to hold not only the bow, but also her body, so that her strength was not taxed in only a short while. And even after all of that she had to learn to aim, which she found was not as easy for her as Azog said it was. But she learned, and she looked up at him to see him smiling slightly in return as he looked at her arrow stuck in the rabbit's leg he had stuck to a tree.

**"Not bad,"** he told her before retrieving her arrow and handing it back to her. **"Hit it again."** This time he did not touch her, he let her position herself as she saw fit, which was how Azog had stood her, and she just barely managed to hit it again. That would not have counted for Bolg, would have left him being shoved and kicked once as he went to retrieve his arrow - but Azog nodded pleased at Calla before getting the bow again and finding an even harder target.

He pinned a little yellow flower to a tree a few feet further than the one before, and he came and stood behind her smugly as he waited. Calla stood for many minutes aiming her arrow, moving her body slightly one way or another, before she finally released it. And to both their shock she hit it. "Ha," she laughed turning to him to see him looking wide eyed at the tree. He refused to believe she'd hit it until he went to the tree and saw she'd hit the edge of it. He plucked another little flower before pinning to the tree and walking back to her see her smiling pleased with herself. **"Do it again,"** he told her, almost as a dare.

Again she took her aim, and again she waited for a few moments as she centered herself before releasing her arrow and hitting it again. **"I did it,"** she said happily, finally able to position herself accordingly to be able to hit the same target Bolg could; though it took her more than twice the time, and Azog was quick to remind her.

**"You have to be able to do it faster than that,"** he told her making her roll her eyes.

She turned to him with a rue look in her eye. **"Can you ever just let me be happy that I did it. Maybe not perfect, maybe not how you do it,"** she said walking up to him and placing her hands on his hips. **"But that I did it."**

He looked down at her, his eyes warm and full of love for her, remembering how pleased she had been to simply hit the tree the target was on - treasuring her ability to love life fully. **"You did well,"** he said at last, and she smiled sweeter as she pressed a gentle kiss to his chest. **"Think you can do it better?"** he challenged, placing a new target on a tree further away.

She stared at the little flower, barely able to see it before nodding. He took his place at her back and she notched an arrow and aimed, breathing as she centered herself. She twisted a little when she felt his hand run along her spine, uncentering her. It happened again when his hand trailed up to her breast, his hands finding their round warmth so much easier in her pelt. Even before the arrow left her grasp she knew it would miss, and she was not wrong. And he was looking down at her smugly. **"You distracted me,"** she accused, knowing he'd done it purposefully; he always did, and she always let him.

He only chuckled as he threw her bow away from her and lifted her into his arms, pressing her back firmly against a tree; the bark making indents in her skin. **"Would you like me to stop?"** he asked softly, pressing his hardened flesh between her legs and watched the heat flood in her eyes. In barely a second, her pelt doing nothing more than hiding her womanhood from view, she was pulling him inside her.

An orc passed them by and looked at the two for hardly a moment before continuing on his way, the sight of them engaged together no longer uncommon. Long months ago it had stopped exciting them, the sight of her breasts or the sounds of her moans no more made them stiffen with lust - leaving them to take the blonde slave, though Azog had given them permittance to take her however they liked, they never pleased her; their loyalties with Calla - the caring between them evident in every movement did not amaze. It was nothing to them, no more than a commonality. And so the two were left undisturbed to enjoy one another.

Hours later as they laid for sleep Azog would see the scratches, see and remove the few splinters; but she hadn't complained, in fact she'd enjoyed it. There was so much he loved about her, and that was only one other thing he could add to a long list. And it was on nights such as these, when he held her as she dreamt with sleep not finding him easily, that he thought of the days to come. He did not know how long he would live, a few days, a few months, years, forever; but she wouldn't, and she would get older and weaker, and then she would die. And he could not think of what he would do then, if he could continue without her, if he would even want to. These were hardly orc thoughts, he knew. They were the thoughts of a man, or even what he used to be - an elf. He looked down at her sleeping face and realized how much of a mistake caring for was, as strong as she made him he was still weak with her - he was vulnerable, afraid of what the future would bring. But it was too late for him, he loved her. And in all honesty, a truth his blackened heart refused to admit, it terrified him how much he needed her heartbeat in order so he could breathe. And yet no thought of getting rid of her would ever cross his mind; he had already reached the point where life without her was all but impossible for him. Which left him more weak and open to destruction than even he knew; for should she die, he would be ruined.

* * *

_I have a link for what I'm picturing Calla did with her pelt, so if you go to my profile you will find it there; as well as how small she is compared to him. Also, I'm thinking of doing a few more chapters showcasing Bolg getting older, and her and Azog as Bolg grows as well as after a few years pass, how she becomes even more of an orc cause now she has a weapon, and how their loves grows (you know, mushy stuff). And then I'm gonna start ending it. Just so you guys know my plan. And you thank you all very much for reading._


	31. my dear she touched my skin

_PS: I like mushy better too, though I think orcish might be easier to write. _

* * *

_xxxi. What's happened has happened/What's coming is already on its way/With a role for me to play/I don't understand, I'll never understand/But I'll try to understand/There's nothing else I can do_

Calla enjoyed using her bow, being able to bring down an animal within seconds; she had never felt powerful before, but holding her bow and aiming an arrow, she felt she could withstand anything. And she felt it even more when Azog stood at her side, feeling his desire for her nearly radiating from him as he watched her shoot. Many a time moments after she would fell an animal, when she stood with her back straight and her breasts barely constrained in her pelt, he'd hold her against a tree and take her - though the third time he'd done it he realized she hadn't been wet enough to enjoy him and she did not reach a release before he'd already finished. So he would get to his knees and pleasure her in the way she most enjoyed, moaning in minutes as her body shook as he held her above him. And during the times he grew hard after bringing her to a release, she would take him in her mouth and leave him crying out with his legs quivering as he stood trying not tear her hair out.

Lug and his orcs were no more than a distant memory, one that did not bring revulsion or hatred; neither Azog nor Calla thought of it as more than just a passing memory, they had survived it and now they could live at peace once again. And the more days and weeks and months passed the more they lived, the happier they became; though Azog tried to hide his happiness, tried to disguise his growing humanity with forced cruelty, he never once fooled her. His orcs still feared him, still cowered when he was in a dark mood, but the moment she was near enough to him he could feel her a lightness would come over him. His eyes were warm, his spirit calm, and the orcs could breathe a collective sigh of relief knowing she would not let him lash out purposelessly. In that way they loved her; she was the sun to darkness, the light to his cruelty, the love to his dark twisted heart. Azog had not just found a mate in her, he had found a woman who could lead them just as well as he - not with fear and pain, but with kindness and loyalty. And though her heart was good, she could punish them just as terribly as Azog; and though they did not fear her, they did not displease her in fear of not only her own wrath but of Azog's as well. And when the two stood united, they were a terrible force to be faced with.

It was in this camp Bolg was raised, knowing fear and to obey from his father, and a strict love from his mother. He was a fighter, a good strong still young orc, he was a killer - and he bestowed upon his mother his own gifts he looted from his kill. At only three years he was as tall as his mother, his muscles growing and his shoulders broadening. Even at her short stature he dwarfed her already, for she was very small comared to orcs - as well as thin. His face only grew uglier as he aged, his mouth forming around his longer sharper teeth, giving his pale face a muzzle that made him look more animal than man. But she loved him, as only a mother could. And it it filled her heart with worry and joy to see him and Azog riding off as he himself began training his son, knowing Azog felt a tremendous pride in him.

Azog sat atop his warg watching as Bolg chased down a man on a horse, having come across a camp. Bolg raised his club, which he had crafted with several spikes, and with one fell swoop the man was thrown from his horse - who fell to the ground with his hind legs broken. Azog felt his chest swell with a pride he had never known as he watched Bolg bring his club down on the man's head, killing him instantly though his legs twitched for a few seconds after. Azog did not raise his mace and race forward, he did not call out to warn Bolg; instead Azog watched silently as another man came down on him, his sword raised high.

This would be the greatest test, to see if Bolg knew enough to watch his surroundings; a test Azog was thrilled to see him pass. Bolg turned feeling the danger approach and he lept out of the way before regaining his feet, crying out as the sword bit into his flesh as the frenzied man attacked him. Bolg did not remain weak for long, Azog stared enraptured as Bolg lunged for the man's throat and, narrowly missing being impaled, tore his throat out with his teeth.

**"You move too slow,"** Azog told him riding up behind him, taking in the blood that dripped from Bolg's chin. **"The men are smaller, quicker. You must be faster than them if you are to stand a chance."** With those words Azog rode forward, leaving his son to climb back onto his warg and follow.

Calla, as his mother, was not pleased to hear Azog had allowed the man to harm him. **"Wounds will help him learn, you cannot keep him from that,"** Azog told her, after a few years he was no longer phased by her quick anger at their son's training; in fact, it was hardly anything to him for she more often gave in.

His words did not bring her any ease, though he had not meant for them too. **"Perhaps he had been hurt worse?"** she demanded, seeing with a heart that loved her son how awful of a choice Azog had made. **"Maybe even killed?" **

**"He wasn't killed, it is barely a scratch. If he cannot defend himself now then death is the only future for him,"** Azog told her, firmer with his words than he normally was. He showed little gentleness in this, his son would be a warrior; an orc whose name wrought fear in the hearts of all living things. He sighed at seeing her still displeased face. **"He did well,"** he told her quietly. **"He is learning faster than most orcs do, and he is better."**

Even though Calla was angry, even though she worried Bolg would be hurt with how Azog trained him; she heard the pride and honor in his voice, saw it on his face. He cared for his son, though he refused to ever show it, and he held him above all other orcs. And so she remained unhappy, but she gave in trusting Azog to keep Bolg alive - not safe, but breathing. And in the years that followed Azog's joy in his son grew as quickly as Bolg did, within three years Bolg was nearly as tall as Azog, growing to be as wide in muscle. He would be a terrible sight, one that would make even the strongest of men turn and flee in fear.

Bolg now joined the orcs when they raided villages, when they raped women - he struggled to take a woman many times, hearing her screams or her cries and somehow his mother would come to mind and he would have to force himself to take the woman to save face. But the more he was faced with an unwilling woman, feeling her squirm beneath him trying to get away, the more he grew to enjoy it; until his mother never came to mind, only when he saw something pretty, then he would take it and give it to her. Be it a flower, a drawing, a necklace. He loved the smile that would grace her beautiful face, came to treasure the feel of her hand on his cheek, held her close to his heart as he grew older - as his heart grew darker.

The first time Calla had used her bow against another person had been when a group of rangers had tracked them down, disbanding the orc party as they moved for the beginning of spring. As always Bolg stayed with Calla, Azog bidding him protect her, though this time they were overtaken. The rangers were clever, splitting as the orcs did, one group aiming for Azog and his party, and another creeping unseen along after the few orcs who were fleeing to protect their stock. A sick feeling settled in Calla's stomach as she stared at the land around her, feeling something was wrong but knowing not what; and it only grew worse as the minutes passed until the first arrow struck an orc near the back.

**"Go mother,"** Bolg urged, turning to face the onslaught of rangers that rode toward them. Calla watched as Bolg faced them down, killing a few of them only to be knocked from his warg and forced to fight on his feet. Though she was ordered to keep going, to stay out of the killing should harm fall her, she did not. Instead she knotched an arrow and aimed it at the man holding a sword to her son. No hesitation did she give, no thinking or preparing herself to shoot; she sat atop Daisy at an odd angle loosing arrow after arrow and dropping the men around Bolg, allowing him the chance to charge at the remaining men before they could flee. Bolg took her hand and climbed behind her, his warg now dead, and together they rode to where they would make camp.

...

Azog charged toward her, pulling her up by the arms and staring intently at her face. **"Is everything alright?"** she asked startled, thinking something must have happened for him to be so concerned.

He stared at her baffled, having expected tears or unresponsive apathy, instead he was met with confused blue eyes. **"Are you alright?"** he asked her gently, his eyes raking over her body.

**"Of course I am,"** she told him unsurely, her actions having not been those of a murderer but those of a mother; so as her heart told her and her mind allowed her to believe. **"Are you?"**

He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding before nodding; she was well, not despaired and thinking of death for herself. And a relief flooded through him as he looked at her, seeing her staring at him expectantly as she waited for an explaination. The only answer she was given was to be lowered to the ground and taken, Azog moving slow enough, his hands coming up to her breasts, letting her release build until they came together. And then Azog left her, pressing a kiss to her brow, and going to set up their camp and position their scouts. Calla stood and righted the pelt over her breasts before returning to the fire where she finished making supper, content and well and warm.

That would not be the last she turned an arrow on a man, though she never felled a person who did not offer threat; in that her heart remained pure. But it was also when her heart darkened the most, for as time passed death ceased weighing on her until it was all but nothing. And she had never been more of an orc than when Azog laid on top of her, or when she pushed Azog to his back and rode him til he cried out; their passions boiling and inflamed after he watched her kill.

She was a part of him, as much of him as his arm or leg was, as essential to his being alive as his heart. And though he was not always gentle, though he rarely showed kindness in the face of others, he loved her; and she knew he did, for it was in his eyes bared for the world to see as he gazed upon her. And she held her love for him as any woman did, on her sleeve; and not once did he break her heart, he held gently in his hand though gentleness had been unknown. She changed him, she ruined him. And he ruined her. But they loved each other, with a love that was more than love, leaving them to cling to each other when night fell as though the sun could not rise unless it did over their entwined bodies.

_A year later, in Erebor_

Borin stood beside his nephew, the king, his armor shining and their ponies readied. "Are you ready uncle?" Thror asked looking over at him, seeing he was waiting anxiously.

Borin nodded, having sworn to his wife and her memory of the woman who had saved her, that one day they would return for the woman. It had been many years, for his brother had slain by a cold drake, and Thror had been given title as king as well as having to move his people to a new home. But now, as they began to prosper beneath the Lonely Mountain, they were ready to honor their promise. They had sent scouts to find the orc camp, taking many months as they searched over the Misty Mountains, finally finding them and seeing the woman before they raced back. "It time to pay my debt," he declared.

"_Our_ debt," Thror told him. "This woman willingly stood against an orc to keep the wife of my uncle safe, and my father swore to take up arms with you to save her. I owe her, and him, her freedom as much as you."

Borin smiled at his nephew proudly, seeing his brother in him so strongly in that moment. "Then I am ready." And those words, those simple few words, sealed Azog and Calla's fate.

* * *

_song is Red Red Red by Fiona Apple_

_This chapter didn't happen quite as I thought it would, I thought I would do more of Azog and Bolg and of Azog and Calla. But in all honestly, I think that was really it for them. They're just to the point where they love each other, and they're happy. Which means the dwarves are coming, so this story is coming to a close.  
However, a reviewer asked if I would do a Bolg OC story since Calla had taught him that there was love to be found in the world (though he only knows it comes from her). And I was wondering if anyone would be interested in reading it. So if you are, please let me know. And it will most likely be pretty dark, cause Bolg is almost worse than Azog - so he'd be super rough, and there would be rape but I would allude to it cause I don't like having my OCs raped. And also, when I started thinking of this story Thorin kept popping up in my head, like they found her or something and she was all broken and he helped her heal and she fell in love with him - though part of her cared for Bolg in weird unhealthy way. So if that at all interests you, please let me know. And I would love suggestions if you have any. _


	32. and oh did the skin set a burning

_Saya-Onee-Sama: thank you very much. I wouldn't mind writing his reaction to it, however he will be very mean and very dark. _

_Bella: thank you so much. I've really come to love writing them, and this chapter really just hurt. And thank you, I'm glad you like the idea. He would be very deep, and he would be conflicted and sad and angry - only that would come across to the OC as pretty much a monster cause he's really orcish, like he puts Azog to shame._

* * *

_xxxii. In a little while I'll be gone/The moment's already passed, it's gone/I'm not here, this isn't happening/I'm not here, I'm not here_

_Many months later_

Azog held Calla to his chest, his heart beating furiously after laying with her, staring up at the stars as feelings he had never felt before swirled around him; happiness, contentment, love, joy, peace. **"What are you thinking about?"** she asked him softly, her head over his heart and a hand curled beneath her chin.

**"You,"** he answered making her smile.

She took a deep, tired, breath as he ran his along her spine. **"What about me?"** she asked, for things were never as simple as they sounded with him.

"Love," he whispered, pulling her tighter against him as though his heart knew their time was running short. For several weeks now he felt strange looking at her, his chest would constrict, a sense of panic as light and faint as it was would devour him, and he would need her pressed against him before he could breathe again. But for the time being he allowed comfort to settle in his heart, holding her before they fell asleep, the thousands of stars above them watching them and keeping them safe. His ease only grew when she moved to kiss him before settling back down against him; neither of them knowing in only a few short hours all would destroyed.

...

An hour before dawn Azog was woken by one of his scouts. **"What did you see?"** Azog asked moving out from underneath Calla, who only curled herself up to stay warm.

**"Dwarves,"** the scout answered almost shrilly, the panic evident in his voice. **"An army."**

Ice swam in Azog's veins, it having been a long while since he'd delt with dwarves, let alone an army of them. They were small, easy to kill, but they were strong fighters and when there were many of them they were more than often victorious in their battles; and Azog's pack could not withstand an army of dwarves.

**"What is it?"** Calla asked sitting up when Azog shook her, now knowing something was wrong.

He looked down at her lovely face, his eyes soaking in every bit of her skin as though he may never see her again. **"We are leaving, and we must be quick,"** he urged, his words bringing her into awareness and he pulled her to her feet. **"Take nothing,"** he told her quickly, the same as he'd bid all the others.

She looked at him with wide eyes, knowing something was horribly wrong if they were leaving all their stock behind. But she complied immediately and mounted Daisy before guiding her to Azog's side. **"Will we be alright?"** she asked him softly, fear clutching her heart and making her spine tremble though she did not show it.

He had not have an answer for her, he wanted to tell her yes, he wanted to assure her in only a few moments they would be safe again; but he couldn't, for he did not know. **"Let nothing slow you," **he told his orcs, all atop wargs ready to follow him. **"We must make haste to our trees. Move out."** And with that Azog urged his warg forward and the others all followed suit, racing toward a clear horizon.

The dwarves, however, were clever in their plan of attack, splitting their numbers two ways so that they could take the orcs from the front and the rear. The orcs did not realize this until it was too late, arrows flying and taking down both orc and warg alike. Azog turned his warg and Daisy moved to the left to get out of the way as she ran. Azog continued doing this, hearding Calla away from the line of arrows as they charged toward the dwarves.

Orc met dwarf, warg met ax, arrow met flesh. Calla had never seen a battle, none such as this where they were so out numbered there was no question they would all fall. What Calla did not know was why, the dwarves had specifically come looking for the orcs, that much was obvious; but she could not find why. She saw in Azog's wild eyes the fear that was rooted in her heart, and it only frightened her more. The more he pushed her left the more she realized he may leave his orcs and simply take her where she would be safe; only that was not to be. Azog saw the dwarf aim his bow and he raised his mace and took him out, drawing attention to not only himself but also to Calla, who on a warg wearing a pelt looked very much a light skinned orc.

Daisy stumbled when the arrow lodged in her left flank but she continued running, taking a dwarf with her teeth and throwing him aside. She did not turn at Azog's roar, not as Calla did, it did not set a panic and a fear in her heart; all Daisy wanted was to get Calla somewhere safe, to get herself somewhere safe. But Calla, hearing Azog's cry as he was thrown from his warg and then assaulted by dwarves, nearly ripped Daisy's fur out to get her to turn back. Upon turning Calla saw Bolg rushing for his father, his club raised as he charged into the swarm of dwarves. Yazneg was not far behind him, as several other orcs who had not been stopped already ran to their leader. She saw then to Azog's fifty orc there were a hundred dwarves, though many of them had fallen already as had almost half of Azog's pack. She knew what she had to do, the surest way to keep both herself and Azog alive, and she jumped down from Daisy and pushed her toward the dwarves, aiming an arrow and killing a dwarf about to his stab Azog.

...

Thror had felt fear grip his heart at seeing the large pale orc swing his mace, taking several dwarves out. But where they fell more dwarves rushed in, overtaking the large orc. Victory seemed to be in sight, the orcs now drawn together fighting wildly to stay alive, but the dwarves were winning; more prepared, the orcs having been taken by surprise. Life swelled in Thror's still young heart, seeing they had killed all but twenty orcs and victory was now close at hand.

He nearly fell from the shock at the arrow passing so close to his head, sticking between the dwarf in front of him's eyes. The sound of metal clinging together sounded as Thror blocked an orc's strike, and if not for another dwarf he surely would have had his head taken. And then another arrow came and felled the dwarf in front of him, nearly taking his own life with it. He turned with a vengeance and raced to the orc by the white warg, holding his ax before him to strike. He thanked Mahal the orc was too intent on it's large pale leader to take notice, though he was not so lucky with the warg - who was shrouding the orc from view. He narrowly missed his arm being taken by the warg as he swung his ax, imbedding it in the warg's side bringing it down screaming in pain. Not missing a beat, Thror grabbed the daggar he kept on his belt and turned impaling the orc in the chest with it. Thror held the dagger there, nearly twisting as the orc gasped and choked as it tried to breathe. It was not an orc Thror was faced with, it was not the dark murderous eyes of an orc he stared into; they were blue, as dark as the sky before dawn, and the face that stared at him in pained shock was that of a pretty woman - the one he had gathered an army to save.

Thror didn't understand, she had been holding a bow and killing dwarves; this could not be the woman his uncle's wife wished to save. But he knew it was, with her dark hair and her beautiful blue eyes, and her sweet face with the small mark beneath the corner of her mouth. He gently lowered her to the ground, hearing as she still tried to breathe, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth as she coughed. He hadn't meant for this, he had wished to save her but never had they thought she would be wearing a pelt as an orc, nor had they thought she would fight with the orcs.

"Fall back!" he bellowed, no sense now to let more of their men die. For even though the orc's numbers were decreased dwarves were still falling, and there was no point; the woman was now dying, from his own hand, and the orcs were killing dwarf after dwarf and standing their ground. "Fall back!"

The dwarves confusedly obeyed the order of their king, retreating with their weapons still drawn as they fended off the orcs who now pressed down on them. Though one sound created a still silence, neither orc nor dwarf moved for over a second as the scream rung in their ears. They all looked warily as the pale orc ran, dropping his mace as he fell to his knees; both parties saw the woman with a dagger below her breast and a sorrow fell over them all - the dwarves for they had fought to save her, and the orcs for she was their leader's mate.

Azog took no notice of his body's pain as he moved, hardly noticed when the dwarf before him backed away in fear or when the orcs began shrieking as they chased them off and felled many of them. He stared down at Calla's face, stark white with pain and fear as tears fell into her hair. **"Don't leave me,"** he begged softly, smoothing the hair out of her face, wiping the blood from around her mouth. He begged and he prayed, tears burning his eyes as they never had before, willing her with all of his soul to stay with him. But her chest heaved and she stilled completely, her eyes staring lifelessly ahead - the prayers of his dark and twisted heart were unheard.

The dwarves ran as quickly as their legs could take them, hearing the orcs and the wargs shrieking and growling and snarling; they would have all fallen then, even their king, had the orcs not been brought up short by Azog's scream. It was loud and deep, shrill and wrought with the deepest of pains; and it would haunt them all til the ends of their days, the sound of the orc's lament for his woman. The orcs chittered warily as they turned their wargs back to their leader, staying back and watching as Azog held her body as he cried. None moved forward, none of them had words or actions for Azog - fearing he very well may turn on them and kill them all in his grief. Yazneg looked upon Calla's body in Azog's large arms, her head fallen back and her empty eyes staring at a beautiful land only she could see; his heart felt as though he had been stabbed, as if the dagger had been stuck in his own chest. He did not recognize this as grief, he did not know this was loss - but he knew it's feel.

**"Father," **Bolg said from behind him, coming to stand at his back.

Azog turned with violent eyes, still clutching her to his chest as though the drum of his heart might make hers beat again. The fury left him when he saw his son, his malicious face full of rage and pain, with a hand wound in a dwarf's hair as he held him. **"Who is your leader?"** he spit at the dwarf, seeing him shaking and smelling his body's excrements.

Yazneg stepped forward and translated, taking a belt and whipping him in the face when he did not answer. The dwarf had cried out as it cut into his skin, feeling his blood pouring down his face. But even then he did not tell them, his loyalty and pride and honor too strong.

**"Answer me!"** Azog screamed, releasing his hold on Calla to take the belt and beat him relentlessly. Over and over he brought the leather down, beating him harder in a wave of frenzied agony.

**"Azog," **Yazneg yelled stilling him, and he stared at his leader as he heaved - his eyes wild and crazed with a dark light that made Yazneg very afraid. **"He has answered."**

He dropped the belt, his eyes swollen and throbbing as he found that they wished to cry once more, his breaths coming in pants as he was forced to face what had happend. She was gone. Her love, her kindness, the feel of her hand on his cheek, her body beneath him, her head on his chest, seeing her lovely smile; never again would he be given any of it, an eternity of this sorrow, of the ache in his chest where his love for her had been. She was gone.

There was utter silence as he fell to his knees cradling her as he wept. Long hard sobs wracking through him as he cried, screaming occasionally when the grief was too much to bear. Bolg turned from his father, feeling his own sorrow deep in his hardening hard, and looked to the dwarf who lay bloody and crying in a heap. All the rage, all the sadness and the horrid ache of his mother being dead gathered in him and grabbed the dwarf and tore him apart. There would be no peace, no joy to ever be found in the world again; only blackness, and anger, and pain. She was gone.

* * *

_song is How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead._

_I don't think I've ever almost cried writing something before, but good god my throat is still swollen. So I'm going to do another chapter that's mostly in Hobbit time, explaining my reasons why Azog does what he does - his motivation behind his cruel heartless actions. And that will be end. Thank you for coming with me on this journey, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it._


	33. oh my dear she touched my skin

_PS: I know, they never quite work out how you want them too. I am reminded of the song from wicked, the no good deed song. And I think of Thorin and I drool._

_Bella: thank you so much, I'm so honored to hear that my writing touched you and that you cared for the characters. It does seem a bit weird to care for Azog, and even Bolg, but I gave them more depth than I had ever thought them capable of having. So now I can't look at them the same._

* * *

_xxxiii. where once we kissed and ran, that memory scorched the man/I have to tell you dear, death has become my breathing./My dear she touched my skin/and oh she did, she touched my skin/where once we kissed and ran/this madness haunted the man_

Sleep. That was the first thing he grew to hate for it would not come willingly to him, and when it finally graced him with a few moments of peace his dreams always woke him. It the worst for the first year, for he dreamed of her at his side - of her smiling face, the feel of her body, the warmth of her skin against his - so that when he woke he reached for her, but his hands only grabbed for air. Daisy often slept at his back, giving a warmth he thought he may never feel again; it was Calla's warg, the one she had loved so strongly, and she was now his. His only acts of gentleness were ever seen to the warg, when he would run his hand along her fur a brief moment before he darkened.

His orcs now lived in fear, a fear so great they nearly trembled to be before him; and they shivered and whimpered when they had done wrong, for the only punishment he now gave was death. There was no mercy, no love in his heart. All good that had ever been in him had been buried with her beneath a tree, that bloomed a pretty flower in spring so that even in death he knew she would know beauty. A long while he refused to move their camp, laying himself over where he buried her, as though he could feel her beneath him, but they could not stay forever. They attracted hunters, men and animals, and Azog was forced to leave her. The orcs hardly slept that first night after they left, did not dare to breathe; his pain was so great he lashed out even in his sleep, crying out for her only to wake with empty arms and a grief too great for him to carry. They dared not think him weak, if anything in his pain he was the strongest they'd seen; a fire in his heart to rip the throat out of every living being. There was reprieve for him, no coming to terms with loss; he had been given a taste of happiness, of joy, of love and the whole-hearted peace that comes with knowing another person loved you no matter your weaknesses - and it was torn from him and left him empy and cold, and bitter.

And enraged. Thror, king of Durin's folk, king under the Mountain - the dwarf who slayed Azog's love. Over the years that passed his hatred for the dwarf grew and grew, festering in a sweltering heat that was his heart. Nothing could lessen the burning of his need for vengeance, nothing to fill the ache he felt in his soul. Not even Moria. How Azog had longed to go there, had gotten it in his mind many times - Calla being the last reason why he did not. The first year after he left the place where Calla was buried Azog overtook seven packs of orcs, killing the leaders and all who would oppose, building an army of his own to venture to Moria. There was a great fighting, for the orcs who had lived beneath the mountain had destroyed hundreds of dwarves to claim it. And so Azog had waited, allowing himself to fall under another's leadership, until one day he killed him and took Moria as his own. It had not come without a fight, one Azog was proud he had won - knocking back orc after orc with his large mace, tearing them apart and instilling fear in the orcs who had bowed to him - a fight he could not have claimed victory without his son. Together they were a terrible sight; both pale as the moonlight and towered over all the rest - half crazed bloodlust shining in both their pale eyes.

Azog's army had grown tremendously, hundreds, almost a thousand, orcs at his command; enough to make his pride swell in his chest as though it may burst out of him. But he was not happy, he would never be happy - _could_ never be happy again. For years he ruled Moria, a plan forming of overtaking the dwarves, of destroying Thror and every dwarf in his line so that Calla would have justice. So that he could have peace with her. And in all honesty, that was the only thing he lived for. To make right the wrong that was done her, to give her peace in her death; that was all he wanted, to give her peace so that he may find his own. How could he live for anything else when the only thing he wanted was her, and he had buried her as humans did with their dead - and he had buried his heart with her so that only black emptiness remained.

He did not seek to destroy Thror, he did not leave Moria to exact Calla's retribution; he did not have to for Thror and his army came to him looking to reclaim the lost halls. And such surprise was on Thror's face when, as he fought through a great number of orcs as did his hundreds of dwarves, he saw the large pale orc coming for him. Their eyes met and Thror knew, upon looking at Azog's deadened eyes only alight with his pain and the need to cause it, that this would be his end - his penance for all he had done, including killing the woman, was

finally upon him.

A surge of warmth filled Azog as he held the head of the dwarf king high as he roared, the hand that had taken her life finally dead. Azog knew from the young dwarf's armor, and the way he cried out for the kind that he was from his line - and so with burning eyes Azog turned and threw the king's head to his grandson, daring the dwarf to raise a weapon to him now. And like the hot blooded fool Azog knew dwarves were, the young dwarf charged him. With a sick glee Azog ran, swinging his mace. Time after time Azog struck the dwarf, but it seemed that death was not in his favor because though the dwarf fell he did not stay down - instead Azog struck relentless against a mere piece of wood that would not break, keeping the dwarf on his feet. And never had Azog felt such shock, such pain, as when the dwarf cut his arm - his mace falling with it to the ground leaving Azog to scream. He tried to stop, tried to get to his feet and pick up his mace with his now only hand and kill the dwarf, but many orcs dragged their leader back into Moria. And he screamed, in pain and fury, as the last of Thror's line looked on proudly.

The only relief Azog would come to find was hearing Bolg had taken Thror's son, Thrain; and though his arm had been severed, though they had burned the stub to stop him from bleeding, though his pain was great enough he wanted to weep, he stood and looked on as his son began torturing the dwarf - Bolg's own cruelty more vicious in the face of the son of his mother's killer. There were not many answers to be had from Thrain, but his son was Thorin, and the pleasure it gave father and son to make him scream. But now Azog had a name to the dwarf who had taken his arm, and his anger and fury grew as the years passed, as he was forced to learn how to live with only one arm.

It would have been bearable had Calla been at his side to soothe him with her small gentle hands, to make him feel as though he were still whole. As it was his anger grew, lashing out at all who dared come near. He found a metal spike, a crude thing that ended in almost claws, and he stuck it in his arm and impaled an orc with it, pleased to see he could kill effectively with it. Even then, Thrain's screams echoing as Bolg tortured him continuously, able to use what was left of his arms, he could not find happiness - could not find the want to continue living. It grew so that he no longer cared for Thrain's pain, it did nothing but make Azog tired and the empitness in him grow. The same could not be said for Bolg, who looked at the dwarf as though he had been the one to kill his mother, and so he would have been happy to do everything he could to make him scream and cry, and beg to be killed. But Azog had enough of it one day, when Calla's ghost haunted him the greatest, and he killed the dwarf.

**"I was not finished,"** Bolg seethed, willing to pick a fight with his father now that he was larger than him.

But Azog's eyes were dark, full of a rage that kept him breathing. **"He did nothing,"** Azog yelled to his son. **"Your mother is dead. He was worthless."** At seeing Bolg would make no further objection Azog turned away, sitting wearily beside Daisy who was large with another litter. It was then Bolg saw just how destroyed his father was, just how heavy his mother's ghost weighed on him; and Bolg did not provoke him again.

...

_TA 2941 - late spring_

"Balin?" Bilbo asked quietly one day, not wishing to draw Thorin's attention. "You said Azog had sworn to destroy Durin's line?"

"Yes, he did," Balin answered with a small nod, his voice lowered as well.

Bilbo turned from the older dwarf as he thought, the same question demanding an answer as it had when Balin had told them of Thorin battling the pale orc. "Why?"

Balin's eyes flicked to Thorin to see he was paying no mind as he walked ahead, knowing he would be angry should he hear them speaking of this. "Thror had killed his mate," Balin answered shortly, hoping to be done with the subject that had left such a bitter mark on his family.

"He had a mate?" Kili asked, having been listening. Even then, not knowing just how precarious a topic it was; though he knew from their hushed voices to speak softer than he was used to.

Balin looked over at him sharply, making Kili look down abashed. "Yes he did," Balin answered. "A young woman who my father's mother said she was very kind, and very beautiful."

Both Bilbo and Kili looked at him surprised. "He had a woman?" Bilbo asked astonished.

"Yes," Balin nodded. "My grandmother had been taken by the orcs to aid in her in birthing their son."

"She had Azog's son?" Kili asked in an appalled hushed whisper, that being unheard of.

Balin sighed before nodding. "Her name was Calla," Balin said softly, remembering his father explaining why his grandmother would grow sad on the same day each year and often cried. His grandfather wouldn't speak of it, he would turn in on himself and grow very quiet. But his father explained what had happened, irritated at a young Balin and Dwalin who had asked of the woman their grandmother grieved - his father did not say much of Azog, only that his terrible screams still haunted Borin. And that her death had broken something in the king, for when they returned he had turned away from his son and instead turned to his treasure. "She is the sole reason my grandmother left the orcs alive."

Kili's brows rose nearly to his hairline. "They listened to her?" he asked amazed.

Balin nodded. "She was their leader's mate, and he loved her. My grandmother saw it on his face."

"Can orcs love?" Bilbo asked.

"No," Thorin's deep voice said startling them. He looked upon them severely. "He took her from her home when she was young and kept her for many years as a pet. She was nothing more than his whore, and she has caused enough pain." His tone and his words ended all talk of Azog's woman, no one daring to upset him. But Thorin knew that was not true, for his own father told him of her; of how she had been dressed as an orc, standing by a pale warg who guarded her, and was fighting alongside them. And then of Azog's scream, shrill and pained as only a man mourning his fallen wife could sound. She was no pet, nor was she a whore; Azog had truly loved her, though Thorin would never admit that to himself; for evil cannot love, and the pale orc was evil. And so he did not let himself believe it.

...

Azog waited on the cliff they had come to for the night, waiting for Yazneg to return to him with Thorin's head. He could hardly look at Yazneg for the memory of Calla had etched itself in his face, so that it took much will for Azog not to kill him out of spite - for Calla had cared for him as a friend. But when Yazneg returned without Thorin's head, bearing the excuse of elves, Azog felt no regret in killing him. And a strange relief settled over Azog when his face was torn off by a warg.

It had taken Azog many years before he could fight as well as he used to, his new arm more difficult to learn and he often hurt himself with it. And it was even more years to track down the dwarf king who had no Mountain to rule under. And so his rage had been tremendous when he had come so close to finally having the dwarf, Daisy holding him in her jaws, an orc with a sword to his throat; and yet still death did not come and Thorin yet again escaped him.

But Thorin did not escape from him in their final battle, though Azog did not have the victory he had planned. The orcs and goblins had at first been vicotorious, but the men and the elves and the dwarves had banded together; and then the eagles had come, and then the bear; and then the orcs saw a loss at hand and began to retreat. But not Azog, he would have his vengeance, he would exact Calla's justice. Many swords, and arrows, and axes bit his skin but he noticed them naught. His pale eyes were aimed at Thorin, gleaming as he fought death to finally kill the last of Durin's line. And Azog did not mind the ax when it came down on his head, he did not mind the cold moments of agony before death; for he had stuck his spike in Thorin's belly, twisting it so that the dwarf cried. And though Azog was dying, he knew he was taking the dwarf with him.

...

_Azog stared straight ahead of him, not knowing which was to go, no clear path he could see; and in all truth he did not know if he were seeing anything at all. But he saw one thing, a dark contrast to the brightness, a small shape compared to his own. It was many moments of staring in fear that this was only another dream, one that would leave him crying out alone in the dark, before he realized she was truly standing before him. It was not until he felt her small hand on his cheek, the warmth of her skin, saw the light in her blue eyes, that he fell to his knees and wept against her chest. _

_Centuries he had lived without her, years of empty arms and an aching heart; agony, hatred, anger, and the greatest of pains. And all of that washed down his cheeks as he cried, clutching her to him, his tears only streaming faster when he felt her arms around his shoulders as she held him. This was where his happiness had gone, his joy. In her was the sound of his heart, and listening to the beat within her chest he finally found peace._

* * *

song is The Haunted Man by Bat For Lashes - have been waiting since the beginning to use those lyrics, cause I think they just describe perfectly how Azog lived after Calla died.

I do not know if orcs have a heaven, or any sort of afterlife; so you can make what you want about that last bit - whether he was only dreaming before he died, or he was actually with her. I will be a romantic and dream that he is with her for eternity, happy and free. But I would just like to thank all of you so much for reading this story, and especially to those who reviewed. It all means so much to me, and I wouldn't have had the motivation to complete this story had you not read and reviewed. So thank you.


End file.
